Not sure if this will make the news anywhere other than Australia, but we had a riot last night. It wasn't quite on the same scale as the riots in LA all those years ago, or even a typical post match celebration for the English soccer team, but it still qualifies.

It was sparked by the death of a local boy, who depending on who you believe, was either fleeing from police or was spooked by the sight of the police and fled on his own volition. An afternoon of 30C+ temperatures and lots of alcohol led to fires being set, rocks being thrown, wheelie bins being wheeled, people jumping on cars and the odd firework being unleashed.

Watching the firework brought back memories. Years ago, a friend was running a camp, and I went along on the final night to help out. The finale of the night involved a firework display. The fireworks were legally bought, all the permits arranged, fire crews notified, the kids all a safe distance. We had lined up about 4 rows of fireworks, and the plan was for 4 of us to light the first row, step back and light the second row, step back and light the third row etc.

Somewhere along the way while lighting them, we decided it would be more fun to run up behind each other and light them, causing us all to run around like headless chickens. In hindsight, it was dangerous and nobody should ever repeat the stunt, but it was incredibly fun and it looked amazing. Then one of the people lighting the fireworks, who I will name G*l, lit a firework that he had not set up properly. Instead of the firework shooting up in the air, it shot across the ground and raced towards the kids. Fortunately, as they were sitting on a hill, the firework picked up enough height going up the hill and went over their heads.

My mum always liked G*l, though she may not trust him with matches anymore.