It seems that terrorists are trying to kill us again. It must be my fault as, what with the bad weather and all, I may have momentarily let my vigilance slip. Just a little. The car bomb was left outside a nightclub in Central London. The car was filled with petrol, gas cylinders and nails. In the masturbatory fantasies of the would-be bomber, the blast would have burst through the plate glass window of the “Tiger Tiger” club, engulfing the dancers in a wave of flame, shards of glass and nails.
Attacks against nightclubs have long been planned. When the Bluewater bombers were caught it became known that one of them had proposed an attack on the Ministry of Sound nightclub on the basis that it was full of “slags” and that “no-one would be able to pretend they were innocent”. It is worth pausing and thinking through that last sentence. My instinct is to think that peace and understanding is possible if we all make an effort to understand other peoples’ points of view but I will confess to having some considerable difficulty getting my peanut around this one.
Apparently God is the kind of guy who thinks an evening in a nightclub is punishable by death and that violence and murder is nothing more than the crypto-judical delivery of a “just measure of pain”. Tearing the flesh from people whilst watching from afar is, I gather, the sort of praise-worthy act that makes a hero of a pathetic little tosspot with a death complex.
I think that sometimes one is best measured by one’s enemies, in which case I am pleased to offer myself as the enemy of any person, whatever their culture, race or religion, who thinks murdering others is a path to glory. I know what you fear; what you cannot abide; it is something beautiful, strong and simple – women dancing. You fear that beauty, fun and joy like a cockroach fears the light. It makes you and your shrivelled black heart irrelevant.
Join the resistance and dance.
And dance I will!!!
Consider the resistance joined.
Noli illegitimi carborundum and what not.
However uncomfortable it may make me (and those who have to witness it) I will dance like a deranged beeeeyatch.
I have a friend who says that in the 1980s in London, any package left anywhere was considered an PIRA bomb. He told me that he was having lunch with a business friend and a boy dropped off package at the front. Pandemonium ensued. It was his mother’s lunch. YIKES!
I’m sorry it’s come full circle. But honestly, Moobzy, who knows what God thinks? I’m grateful for the person who noticed the car and reported it. Probably someone who remembers the time when “troubles” meant dead bodies.
I’m bless that you are safe. That I am safe. That P and D are safe. Today. The only day I have.
I’ll dance naked for the revolution.
I’ll dance. Hells yes, I’ll dance. Great thoughts, Moobs.
It’s times like this I’m glad I live in an overlooked city. I’ve never felt the need to worry about being a terrorist target.
I think you should see this:
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/main.jhtml;jsessionid=TQZHHVXVZ34CBQFIQMGSFGGAVCBQWIV0?xml=/news/2007/07/01/nflood201.xml
I have written about it on my blog, too.
Good sentiment. I’m dancing to Abba right now, with a hairbrush in my hand, belting out ‘Dancing Queen.’
The comparison’s a bit mean to cockroaches, isn’t it?
It’s a common misunderstanding among fanatics that God hates dancing. He is actually indifferent to dancing per se but really, really hates Abba.
Dancing like a fool and cursing their names to the heavens…
Fortunately the Govt. already has this covered. From yesterday at 6am, all night clubs, bars, restaurants and pubs will have a vigilant crowd of people – all on 10 minute shifts – hanging around outside every exit. They should spot anyone behaving suspiciously…
Yep, the smokers will save us all. If you can’t dance, puff.
These particular pathetic little cockroaches (with the exception of the Scottish airport cockroaches) were planning to be out of the carnage themselves – setting their bombs off from a distance. Such heroism. Ack.
Oh – and I was slightly surprised to find myself nodding in agreement with Bliar over something he said about our home-grown Islamist fanatics – ie gang members – to paraphrase – ‘How can they say they’re being oppressed in this country when the Taliban were shooting teachers in Afghanistan for teaching girls?’.
Pog, having seen Brown’s dour, uninspiring performance yesterday morning, I was left wistful, because at least Blair would have gave it some and shown he wasn’t going to roll over. I can’t believe I’m feeling wistful for the leadership of a man I spent ten years loathing, but I have no confidence in Brown.
and this is why all the ladies love you
shake yer bootie.
(my parents are at a bday party in inner temple this week – are they likely to run into you there? or is that like saying – ‘i know someone in america, perhaps you’ve met them’?)
And don’t forget the trying to drive a blazing car into glasgow airport…..how bizarre.
I will dance and dance and dance
I’m dancin’ baby! I decided years ago that the bullies and cowards were not going to change my ways–and even living under the Bush regime for over six years hasn’t caused a change in my thinking or attitude!
Sorry to read of disappointment in Brown.
dance dance dance!
I am pogo ing as I write this? Pogo is a verb right???
i will dance definately. that will scare them off… mo-fos