The evenings festivities, last night, were marred by a slightly unfortunate event.
One of Cowgill's rockets veered off course and landed right in the middle of Badfort.
A deputation from Badfort soon arrived.
"All right!" yelled Hateman. "So that's what it's come to: Magnate Bombards Badfort with Rockets! That's going to look well in the Badfort News tomorrow! It's bad enough that you celebrate the loss of our largest ever Black Tom dump every year, now you are attempting to destroy our home. We demand compensation!"
Feeling magnanimous I assured Beaver that it was a pure accident but now he was here why not join the party?
As for compensation, I offered him a few barrels of Cowgill's home brew. His eyes lit up - Cowgill's distillation is renowned as a heady spirit.
I even turned a blind eye when they sang their libelous songs around the fire and scoffed all the sausages.