To ones neighbour with the unexpected fireworks display as I was just passing by I would like to add to your spontaneous and eardrum piercing surprise display with my own tribute to guy forks, the brown fountain.
So taken aback was I, so perfect was the timing of your initial launch, that I almost travelled side by side with one of your expensive “not for garden use” rockets due to the force of which my arse burst it’s audible terror at the shock of a bomb going off just a mere few feet from it. As each screaming rocket hurtled skywards, my arse in record time played out it’s own rendition of the gunpowder plot. My heart itself joined in this fabulous display by not only jumping out of my chest but bouncing off my ribcage and attempted to burst backwards out of my startled starfish before bungee bouncing back to where it was, beating out the morse code to “WHAT….THE FUCK…IS GOING…ON”
Concerned that you might have missed my own personal display, as I’m sure you were quite consumed by your own “Look at how much I’ve spent kids” and “let’s give the passing fat lad a coronary” fireworks display, I’ve thrown over the fence a record of my own explosive event in the form of my gunpowder shocked undercrackers which are now plastered to your patio window, slowly sliding down leaving behind the signature stroll of a warm trundling chocolate snail.