Guy Fawkes. . . The true story behind the nights events.

As is the way of a chap who is disillusioned grumpy and generally disheartened by his stumbling about in the vast  voids of cyberspace with its blackness and its digitally  enhanced digital reality of self indulgence and blackness; I have decided to do a sneaky and repeat something.  You see tomorrow here in Britain it will be Guy Fawkes Night an event that is not celebrated by the rest of the world on account of the fact it is a very British historical event.  So it is an event of which few outside Britain will know anything about, this means that by repeating the story of exactly why we all celebrate with bonfires and fireworks has some relevance today, or folk around the world will be thinking . . . . . . What the hell are those Brits up to now. They are just a weird bunch of mad ex-imperialists with delusions of importance on the world stage. . . . . . . .(AH yes OK that is sort of true. . .But)

So here it is the true story of Guy Fawkes and the Gunpowder Plot. . . . The Government and the powers that be, will tell you differently for their own underhand reasons but everyone knows that Governments are always up to stuff that they do not want folk to know about, and will spin many a far fetched tale to distract us all. In fact it was this paranoia from the powers that be, that is partly responsible for the chain of events way back then. 

So here we have it

The  True Tale of Guy Fawkes . . . . . (Repeated)

Tomorrow here in the UK it will be Guy Fawkes Night( bonfire night, firework night) a night when loads of folk have bonfires, set off fireworks and eat toffee apples and wave sparklers about. However folk forget about why all this started back in 1605 when trying to escape from a large group of Zombies Guy Fawkes leapt into the cellar of the House of Commons. His train of thought (An old saying that led to the other old saying, he has fallen off the rails) being that no Zombie with any sense of taste would be stupid enough to want to eat the brains of a politician. However Zombies cant read so unfortunately followed him. thinking quickly on his feet he happened upon several large casks of gunpowder and thought to himself . . . . .I know I will blow them up (the Zombies, no one else . . . he just planned to blow up the Zombies).

Unfortunately as he was running about avoiding Zombies and trying to set fire to the fuse for the gunpowder which was a bit damp, a large group of politicians arrived in the cellar to see what all the noise was about.  Zombies hate politicians they taste terrible (still true to this day) so they ran off and hid leaving poor old Guy Fawkes standing on a large pile of explosives with a box of matches and because no one liked and still dont like politicians they sort of got the wrong idea about him, thinking he was trying to blow them up. A classic case of political paranoia, I mean as if anyone would think about doing such a thing.

Of course poor old Guy was hung as they did back then for almost everything and it was only afterwards that it was discovered that he was trying to blow up Zombies. So feeling a bit guilty and knowing that no one liked them anyway the politicians thought it best to celebrate him with a jolly uplifting event with bonfires (everyone loves a bonfire) where folk could burn a Zombie on it (everyone loves Zombies). Then after several accidents where the Zombie escaped and ate small children it was decided to burn an effigy of a Zombie instead, which folk like to call Guy after that gorilla that can bend folks.




I will now run off back into the digital blackness of cyberspace to sulk and point at things like seagulls. . . .they get everywhere