As is traditional, last night we celebrated the failure of a terrorist plot 400 years ago by blowing up a whole pile of stuff in the back garden. Because there’s nothing quite like a really, really, loud rocket for encapsulating 17th century Catholic disenfranchisement. The standard of our fireworks this year was generally pretty good, but the rubbish ones were given an extra edge by the prospect that something could go horribly wrong at any…

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