pretty, but dumb

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Not me, of course. I have never been described in such a way. I'm all ugly and intelligent, me. No, I speak of fireworks. So sparkly. So aaahhh and ooohhh worthy. They're so gorgeous. But also ... BOOM!!! BANG!!! BOOM!!! It's the sixth of November today. I know, I checked. Officially, Bonfire Night was yesterday. Unofficially, it lasted all weekend. My two fur monsters have been cowering in their safe place. For Dora this is behind the computer tower thingy under the desk. Qyzy is rather partial to the space inbetween the open kitchen door and the washing machine. Now, I love fireworks. I even like the BOOM!!! BANG!!! BOOM!!! But I reside firmly in the camp which would prefer them to only be available for public events, not on general sale for any Tom, Dick or Harry to let off in their back garden at random times for daft reasons, like Sally's twenty-fifth birthday or Fred's first day at school. As an aside, this bus driver is a bit rubbish, almost driving into the verge. And he keeps clearing his mucus-infested throat. Ugh. One can only hope that the Chavsters have used up all their fireworks and life for my cats can get back to some kind of BOOM!!! BANG!!! BOOM!!! free existence, at least until the New Year. It's horrid to have little creatures looking up at you in horror, shaking in fear, when you can't actually explain to them that it's okay, it can't hurt them. Bless their little jelly beans.