Welcome to Wicked Problems. It’s the 5th of November, when here in the UK in a few hours we will be beset with the smells of damp wool infused with bonfire smoke and dodging soggy fireworks. I was going to make a gunpowder joke, but I was afraid it’d blow up in my face. I was going to make a treason joke, but my sense of humour betrayed me.1
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