Paris bombings

[Paul Rigby]

It's a sick, narcissistic death cult but we will defeat them, writes The Mad Turk

The Blackshirt on Sunday, 15 November 2015

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-...hnson.html

This was not just an attack on innocent life. It was an attack on my prospects for Number 10. And as such, when I look at the images from Paris, I feel not just grief and shock. I feel a deep and abiding sense of rage. So much so, that I have tasked not one, but two tame reptiles to cobble together this nonsense, in a desperate attempt to cover my candidacy in more Gallic blood than Gideon can.

When the Islamist killers opened fire, they killed and maimed people who were entirely guilty of voting in huge numbers for the tyrant Assad. That was in Syria, however, and therefore admirable, particularly when they dressed the Christian ones up in orange boiler suits and sliced their heads off.

But now these lunatics have turned up in Paris, presumably in the guise of burka-clad women, shooting masses of Froggies with Russian weaponry, arms no doubt freshly prized from the hands of the thousands of dead Siberian privates on the approaches to Aleppo and Mariupol, and flinging their passports at the feet of their victims like ghoulish, if obligingly revealing, calling cards. This is not admirable, for reasons so hypocritical and dishonest that I shall now attempt to distract you from considering the matter with successive paragraphs of emotive, irrelevant drivel.

They murdered and maimed men and women who have had absolutely nothing to do with Western policy in Iraq or Syria and who may well have been either kept entirely in the dark as to the true nature of the policies of President Francois Pushover, or indeed have known something about them, and therefore disapproved of them. Some of this latter group perhaps had it coming to them, as most of them are likely Trots and queers.

They killed scores of people who were simply out for a night of fun and entertainment and we are entitled to ask, if only to fill space and continue the distraction, why. Why then? Why there?

Why did they come at night, and to those venues?

They chose darkness not just because they hoped for concealment, but because it is then in the evening that the City of Garlic is famously at its most aromatic and beguiling. They attacked the crowds at a football match, at a rock concert, and in bars and restaurants and in the streets.

It was a vicious and premeditated onslaught on the very nightlife of Paris. And in attacking the nocturnal culture of this glorious European city, the pansy capital of the world for generations of Brits, the Islamist killers were signalling their contempt for exactly those things that make Frog Central great.

These bars and clubs that they machine-gunned what are they? They are places where men can come and meet prostitutes, bonk their secretaries, eat strange foods, drink Absinthe and go blind, laugh like donkeys, consume vast quantities of illegal narcotics, dance, sometimes even with women openly, without embarrassment, without being asked to cover their faces, as if current Chancellors of the Exchequer on a night out with a black, possibly Muslim, dominatrix.

They are places where people may hold hands in public, kiss in public without recrimination, reprisals, or indeed, as I have previously noted if only to keep shire Tories on-side, women. They are the places that epitomise our Western culture, of democratic freedom, and tolerance, and equality between the sexes, where a day's hard work enforcing tyrannical and insane Euroland laws which kill business, manipulating the common agriculture policy grant system, or, if les flics, beating Arabs senseless for fun, is followed by a little gentle fisting at the city's numerous S&M clubs.

It is that culture that is rejected by the Islamists in virtually all its aspects. Where we see personal happiness and fulfilment, they see behaviour that is somehow shameful or distasteful. Where we see civilisation, even in the parody that is the Eurozone version of it, they see something they wish to destroy. As they do, of course, and quite rightly, in the case of secular Damascus, which is Sodom and Gomorrah and deserves everything it gets.

Remember that the killers are explicitly the followers of the so-called Islamic State of Langley. These are people who behead not just Christians and Yazidis, but left-wing Democrats and other Americans who dissent from their interpretation of the good book of Dulles.
The followers of what I can only characterise as an Islamic Gideon murder women who are accused of adultery. They throw gays off cliffs, or out of the windows of the Exchequer. To call them medieval is an insult to the relative moderation of the Middle Ages of Brown.

There can be no compromise with this twisted ideology, no room for common ground because their ambition is so wholly nihilistic: to stop me from getting into 10 Downing Street.

They want to spread fear, and paranoia, not least about my alleged Turkish background, and neo-Ottoman sexual practices. They want to divide a handsome Mayor of London from the electorate and above all they want to divide metrosexual Tories (who run Central Office) from the yeoman queer-bashers of the suburbs and shires; and therefore it is utterly vital that we remember again that these people do not represent Conservative Party members, they do not speak for Conservative Party members, and that they are rejected and despised by the overwhelming majority of Conservative Party members. They belong to a sick, pathetic and very often narcissistic death cult. But enough of the Treasury and its leader, Gideon the misnamed.

As President Pushover rightly said yesterday, we must all do whatever the American deep state tells us. And that is because, in the end, grovelling subservience to its ideology offers the only real hope of me getting into Number 10. That is why I visited Israel and assiduously ignored mounds of dead Palestinian children.

Londoners regard Paris as our sister city, a place for which we have deep reserves of love and admiration and respect, except when we play them at any kind of sport, consider their loathsome personal hygiene, or listen to them droning on about art. But for the purposes of rescuing our Syrian pipeline plans from the clutches of Boris, we are both great capitals that stand for so much that is good about our shared desperation.

Twice in the last 100 years we have fought the Krauts for control of Paris. We stand side-by-side with the French today, in a struggle that embraces us all but never fear, we'll stab them in the back at the next available opportunity, the cheese-eating surrender-monkeys.

What a compelling and sensible article.

I hear Murdoch wants Boris to be the anchor in the new Fox News S & M show to be called Muslim Crisis Roundup: Beat Me Silly, Please.

Here he is practising the role while hanging out his washing.



I'm told his inspiration came from uncle Max Mosley.

Eins, zwei, drei, vier...good Lord, I've lost count of the number of nipple clamps.

On the upside, rarely has the relationship between US and French intelligence been more harrowingly captured. The gimp is, of course, the head of French intelligence; and the charmer in the shades, the Paris CIA station chief.