‘No more hand-wringing – it’s time for neck-wringing’

Richard Littlejohn ponders the implications of yesterday’s attempted bombings in London.

No more hand-wringing – it’s time for neck-wringing

By Richard Littlejohn

Sun, 22 July 2005

We’ve been here before and we’ll be here again, except in the Seventies and Eighties we called them “bomb scares” or “terrorism” rather than “incidents.”

Back then we didn’t get an immediate lecture on the need to reach out to the Irish community and a menacing reminder from Mr Plod that not all Irishmen were terrorists. We never thought they were, any more than we hold our Muslim neighbours responsible for the evils of the Islamonazis who have us in their crosshairs at the start of the 21st century. So spare us the patronising sermons.

The only constant here is Red Ken the Terrorists’ Friend. When the IRA were bombing London he said it was all our fault – something to do with Oliver Cromwell or the potato famine or Rangers winning at Parkhead – and cosied up to the gangsters behind it. Now the Disciples of Death are blowing up Tube trains and buses in the name of Allah, Kenny Boy says it’s all down to Iraq and rolls out the red carpet for their cheerleader Mustapha Jihad.

There’s no point complaining. Livingstone is, was and will continue to be a seriously bad bastard. Yet Londoners voted for him and, don’t forget, he was Tony Blair’s personal choice to be mayor after Plan A, starring Uncle Albert, went belly up.

Let’s just nail this Iraq nonsense from the off. If Iraq has anything to do with bombs in London, it is at best peripheral – just another codicil to a catalogue of imagined grievances used to justify serial murder. If these maniacs really cared about Muslims in Iraq they’d have been blowing themselves up in Baghdad when Saddam was still feeding thousands of his co-religionists into the tree shredder and dropping mustard gas on Iran and Kurdistan.

And enough already about Israel. The Palestinians are the pikeys of the Middle East. If they must have a homeland, give them part of Saudi Arabia, because the Egyptians, the Syrians, the Jordanians and the Lebanese don’t want them either.

No more hand-wringing. It’s time for neck-wringing.

So what are we to make of yesterday’s “incidents?” Was this a lucky escape or was it a Stars In Your Eyes karaoke version of 7/7? The good news is that the bombs didn’t go off and we seem to have had a Todd Beamer moment at the Oval when passengers exercised their right to self defence. I do hope they didn’t rough up the poor would-be bomber, otherwise they’ll all be up at the Bailey charged with taking the law into their own hands.

The other good news is that yesterday’s terrorists didn’t have 72 virgins on their dance card. They chucked their backpacks and legged it. So maybe there aren’t as many recruits willing to End It for Allah as we have been led to believe.

That doesn’t mean that the clear and present danger is over. Who knows how many losers who can’t get laid have had their heads turned by Captain Hook and his fellow hatemongers? Until a couple of weeks ago, the Government could not only not tell us but didn’t seem to have the slightest interest in finding out. Well, it’s their culture, innit? Those of us who were warning for years of the enemy within were smeared as racists while the Old Bill set up roadblocks to allow extremists to peddle their sermons of hatred and death on the streets of our capital city.

It’s difficult to decide whether to laugh or cry when Blair talks about getting tough on those who incite terrorism and deporting the mad mullahs. Blair is the gorilla in the room here. Quite why everyone is heaping praise on his pretty little shoulders is entirely beyond me. The backpack stops on his desk.

He’s the man who champions the pernicious apartheid of multiculturalism and the trashing of British history. He’s the man who boasts that his proudest moment was incorporating the evil “human rights” act into British law. He’s the man who has surrendered control of our borders and who can’t tell us how many illegal immigrants are living here. He’s the man who has turned Britain into a Club Med for terrorists from all over the world and whose Government refuses to deport foreign bombers and murderers.

We are currently being treated to the thoroughly demeaning spectacle of a British minister swanning round the Middle East trying to elicit assurances from sovereign governments that in the unlikely event of our actually agreeing to their requests for the extradition of wanted terrorists, currently living in London council accommodation, they won’t be subject to the death penalty or electrodes on their goolies.

Frankly, who gives a damn? The security of this country shouldn’t be sacrificed for the sake of soppy, self-indulgent, Left-wing conscience-salving. Put these lunatics on the night boat to Cairo and let the Egyptians, Syrians or whoever do what the hell they like with them.

Along the way, Blair has opened the jails and released hundreds of Irish psychopaths back on to the streets and appointed as head of the Metropolitan Police a man with a degree in social engineering. He’s also a man whose response to the 7/7 bombings has been to put British troops on trial for war crimes in Iraq and to have his picture taken with “moderate” Muslim leaders – about as much use as Margaret Thatcher posing with Terry Wogan after the Harrods “incident.”

Oh, and if I haven’t mentioned it already, this is the man whose wife heads a legal chambers set up specifically to cash in on the “human rights act” which numbers among its legally aided clients a bunch of Afghan terrorists who hijacked an airliner and diverted it to Stansted and who are currently luxuriating somewhere in West London at the expense of the British taxpayer.

Even if Blair genuinely wanted to do something about terrorism, his wife wouldn’t let him. If he’d bothered to enforce the laws we already have, we wouldn’t need a Stable Door Act. Do you trust a Blair government to protect you from terrorists? Because I bloody well don’t. We’ve been here before and we’ll be here again.