No more smoking, not even if your wife is in labour and you agree to walk ten miles to the nearest railway embankment to light up.
No more matches.
No more candles.
No more incense, either in the home or in religious ceremonies.
No more fireworks.
No more bonfires, not even on Bonfire Night.
No more camp fires…
And that’s only the effect on ordinary people. Imagine the catastrophic effect it would have on Hollywood:
No more jobs for pyrotechnic specialists who can aspire to legendary status with words like ‘Ready when you are, Mr de Mille.’
No burning of Atlanta if they ever remake Gone with the Wind.
No more explosions in James Bond films.
No solutions for Sherlock if a case is even a one pipe problem.
No more Indians firing flaming arrows into covered wagons.
No more burning brands in crappy movies about Robin Hood (which should just about finish off movies about Robin Hood, since how do you navigate in Sherwood Forest at night without a burning brand or two and this is 1195?)
No more films about Joan of Arc or 17th century witch trials.
No second remake of The Wicker Man to atone for the dire state of the first one.
No more dry ice effects, just in case some teacher in Texas thinks it’s smoke and calls the cops…
Sorry, now I’m descending into fantasy on the back of obscure topical references. Time to shower and hope that water remains legal.