I HAD been dozing after a hard day, when I became aware that the fighting and celebrations of Tripoli had apparently descended upon the Tatnam area of Poole on Saturday night.

Bofors guns, exploding shells whistling by, thunderous bangs and flashes and the interminable ack-ack of the opposition in Palmer Road, I had to drive to the Sorting Office of the Royal Mail on Canford Heath just around 7pm, and driving through Death Valley (sorry Fleets Bridge without traffic lights) was scary enough without being rocked by sonic bangs so loud I couldn’t hear the car radio.

It dawned on me that this was the so called Guy Fawkes Memorial Concert, now orchestrated by whoever was selling off the overpriced high powered excuses for fireworks.

I thought we had a recession, that people were hard pressed to make ends meet and yet here were people firing into the night sky as much as we pensioners need to scrape together to pay our winter fuel for the season.

The really odd thing though is that it is a long time since I have seen a group of kids with a Guy made out of old clothes and newspaper (so that’s where the Echo went).

It was all for “a penny for the Guy, mister” as we used to do to earn enough to buy a few bangers, jumping jacks and a catherine wheel.

And where was the neighbourhood bonfire? Probably us old folk will have our own bonfire next year, with all the rose clippings we won’t be allowed to put in our black refuse bins, as the Thought Police (sorry, local council) have decreed we should be charged £31 for a green bin, which may not be collected out of season.

I already have amassed quite a bit, which should be dry enough not to cause too much smoke. Now where does our councillor live? Must put in a planning application for next year’s do.

BRIAN GALPIN, Tatnam Road, Poole