Don't blow on your gas grill!

Don't blow on your gas grill! Take it from me...the voice of experience. I lit the grill the other day, or thought I did. Then I smelled gas, so I realised I hadn't lit it really. That was when I made the fatal mistake of blowing on it to help it to ignite. I helped it along rather too much and ~ whumph! The next thing I knew, my head was very warm and my hair smelled of burnt plastic. (Not that my hair is plastic I'll have you know). It looked pretty freaky, all singed and sizzled. Now you can't really tell except for the very ends of my fringe and the feel of my right eyebrow.
One feels unable to chide one's husband now for setting off a firework in his hand.
His brother has been getting very irate with the local schoolchildren, and rang their headmaster because they were throwing snowballs at him. Then he confessed to having done the following as a child:
• Lighting gunpowder underneath passing cars.
• "Sledging" by hanging onto the bumpers of cars when they stopped at junctions in the snow and riding along on them.
• Attaching rope from his bedroom window to a lamppost across the road and sending action men down the rope in the path of oncoming vehicles.

He would not necessarily confess, but is alledged to have:
• Mistaken his brothers' laundry basket for the toilet whilst sleepwalking.
• Wiping the contents of his nose on his bedside cabinet leaving years of unsightly build up.
Funny how we can so quickly become grumpy old grown ups...