Six days after the flu injection, and my arm looks like this...

It's no wonder they call it a jab. I look like I've been punched in the shoulder by a bloke with a very small fist. Obviously it's reassuring to know that I'm now protected from the ravages of flu, but as a bonus I appear to be developing gangrene. So in addition to cutting back on Lem-sip this winter, I'll only need one glove. I'll be single-handedly saving myself a fortune.

But amputations aside, yesterday was Bonfire Night, so while I still had all my limbs, I decided to throw myself into the festivities by attempting to blow my hand off with a firework. Unfortunately we only had last year's leftover sparklers, but they were well past their use-by date, so it gave them an element of danger. It's important to make an effort when you've got children, so having told Amelie I was doing nothing until I'd had my tea, I eventually headed out onto the balcony in my onesie with a box of matches, before realising I was never going to be able to light them in a high wind, and deciding to let off my fireworks indoors.

Ten minutes later, I'd perfected the art of lighting sparklers next to the curtains and then darting out onto the balcony before I set the sofa on fire. Last year we dressed Amelie in a woolly hat and mittens. This year she had bare feet and a dressing gown. By next year she'll be in care.

It went well though. Having watched a health & safety bulletin on Cbeebies, Amelie insisted we had a bucket of water on standby, and then refused to hold any sparklers herself on the grounds that they might set her hair on fire. Clearly that wasn't a problem for me. So while my family cowered indoors on the sofa, I proved myself to be a real man by holding high explosives on the balcony and taking photos through the door...

They couldn't take their eyes off me. Even the TV's watching.