Calling Abdul

There’s a new political force afoot in the UK. Made up of likely lads from the ranks of football supporters and far right activists, they say they’re going to defend Brits from marauding Muslims. I need to call Abdul to see how he feels about this development.

Abdul’s still pissed off with the British National Party. And Abdul’s been around. Bin on a further education course at a chanting centre in Wazzakstan. He knows the score: knows it’s okay to criticise Christianity. As do the atheists. Safe in the knowledge that cheek-turning Christians won’t come gunning for them, some make money doing precisely that. I sometimes wish that Satanists were Christians. They wouldn’t stand for it. But we all know where we stand with Abdul and his version of Islam.

I’ve written a book about organised religion and rumour has it that I once kicked a vicar. Rubbish. I’m superstitious enough not to call Buddha a fat bas…Not that that would be a problem if I did it in front of a Buddhist. I imagine he or she would smile, safe in the knowledge that enlightenment would never enter my head no matter how long I sat cross-legged under a boa tree. But when Abdul’s around I know it’s best to rein in careless profanities directed at the Prophet, Mohammed, ‘Peace be upon him’.

Abdul has a nostalgic yen for a super-state called ‘Caliphate’. As did the Mahdi of Sudan. Remember him? He had a quarrel with General Gordon about Caliphate, which was settled with a spear. Not completely settled. Nothing much changes in Sudan.

There are about 1.5 billion Muslims and Abdul’s phalanx is lined up for a quarrel. Pretty quick to take offence over literature, art, cartoons, those deemed to insult the Prophet, ‘Peace’ etcetera, and they have no problem recruiting decapitation and stabbing specialists. Some are quite willing to obliterate non-believers by way of self-detonated bombs. Carried by the wives of close friends and directed by wealthy Bin-patrons, the easily led are cajoled into blowing offenders (and themselves) into tiny pieces. Not just offenders but bystanders. It’s indiscriminate, of course. Believers, fellow Muslims, get whacked, too.

Before killing themselves, Abdul’s bombers get to star on MeeeTube. ‘Look at meee, mamma. I’m to be martyred, so peace be upon meee. Next time you hear from meee I’ll have seduced forty virgins. Am I cool?’ Er, no, actually. You’re just a murdering little wank..Git. But I needed to better understand Abdul’s perspective and gave him a call. He’s the only bomb maker I know.

“Abdul! Not blown yourself up then? Abdul, I’ve just had a thought. Did you know that we Westerners were once in thrall to religious nutters? Yes. We used to chant like hell. We put our holy men on pedestals and did what they told us. A pope told our crusading ancestors to invade the Middle East and chop up your ancestors whilst under the protection of his blood red cross... Aah, you knew about that.

“Well Abdul, that sort of collective stupidity didn’t even last two thousand years. Like Black Death it was a sort of debilitating disease. And Abdul, what would you say if I told you that a lot of us are cured? We’ve cast off our religious yokes; the chanting has stopped and we don’t do what they tell us. So tell me, Abdul. When are you guys going to do the same?

“Never?” I paused to let him spit, curse and rant. “I see. Not until we get our crusaders out of Afghanistan and Iraq and start giving a toss about what happens in Palestine. Abdul, we didn’t like it when we went into Iraq to support the Septics, er, Americans. Millions protested. Yes. We knew it was an oil grab. We hate Big Oil...

“What do you mean you don’t believe me? Oh. You’ve been watching Jeremy Clarkson. Even you, Abdul? You think he’ll become Prime Minister of Great Britain then, to feed his habit, he’ll come after your oil. Abdul, the man’s a joke. His programme is an anachronism…Okay. That’s true. A lot of people love it and Brits are stupid enough to vote for him. Good point. But the reason I rang was to ask you if you’ve heard about our new political movement? Yes. Football supporters turned politicians. Oh. You have.

“And how. Steady on Abdul It’s just a joke. No. Not remotely funny. The thing is, Abdul, we’ve got freedom of speech over here and…Abdul?”
But he’d gone.

Heard about what the old German on the pedestal in the Vatican has been up to? Concerned that Anglican vicars can’t live with the idea of ordained gays and women becoming bishops, he’s extended the treacherous Catholic hand of friendship. After four hundred years. Strewth. This is a big deal.

‘Why not hop into your panzer – I meant your SUV. Join me here in Rome,’ is his sales pitch. ‘Weather’s great; food marvellous; communion wine from Chiantishire and you can chant all day. You’ll love it.’

The Grand Wizzer of Wazzakstan, whatever, homo-hater and confirmed misogynist, is thinking about getting in on the Anglican recruitment act. Observers expect his pitch to the vicars will be much more honest. ‘Listen. So you’re against progress and change? Peace be upon you! Come here, to the epicentre of our religion. Yes it’s hot but we’ll show you what good old-fashioned medievalism is all about. You’ll do well, if you pass the test…’

Don’t ask.