It’s the sort of story the left-wing bleaters will screw their faces up at and accuse you of inventing… The truly staggering tale that leaves you, quite literally, grasping for breath its sheer incredulity.
I have read some shockers, but this one is right up there with the very worst of them.
I’ll take it straight to the multikulti do-gooders: is this real, or yet another fictitious BNP-manufactured story of underage girls being groomed by degenerate foreign interlopers? Might Justice Secretary Jack Straw simply be getting his knickers in a twist over some tall tale he might have discovered in one of those rather lurid and badly-written “English Defence League” propaganda leaflets? Eh? Well?
So, it has now been revealed that these stories are genuine – and heaven only knows how many other Zulfar Hussains and Qaiser Naveeds there are out there getting up to the same thing. Needless to say the BNP in Blackburn will be rubbing their hands at this election-time gift that has landed straight in their lap, knowing that the left will choose to focus their attention on them rather than the actual problems themselves. Useless mouth-breathers the lot of them.
One has to wonder what sort of creature might put the “human rights” of some subhuman criminal ahead of both the victims and the general well-being of the country; in my mind this goes beyond the usual state of despair I have at the numerous apparatchikis playing their silly games at our expense. So what if this turd might have spawned a family here? Are we to forget this the victims have a family too? So what if the Pakistani authorities might end up stringing him up by his balls? I’d just see it as a simple case of good riddance to bad rubbish.
I am trying my absolute utmost not to start wittering on about “Broken Britain” and sound like some Daily Mail columnist, but what is happening to this country? I walk back and forth to the office on pavements covered in bird shit and chewing gum and see people nonchalantly litter the street; I guess the powers that be aren’t going to care about such minutae if they can’t be bothered to get rid of all the rubbish that happens to walk on two legs. From crisp packets and beer cans on the street through to the likes of Zulfar Hussain being allowed to breathe free air, this country is slowly turning into a living dustbin.
Needless to say I can’t find anything about this story in The Guardian, which instead provides us with some less than entertaining footage of a finger-pointing skit involving their favourite troubadour Billy Bragg – and the equally pathetic BNP candidate and former bit-part homoerotic actor and director Richard Barnbrook.
Barnbrook may look like a cross between a used car salesman and a Gauleiter in his trademark tan suit, but every time I see or read about that has-been (come to think of it, was he even a has?) Billy Bragg, I want to put a hole through the nearest inanimate object. That whiny voice, the same old tired rhetoric first spun out in 1979, and that faux sense of community that can only truly belong to someone who has conveniently upped sticks and retreated to somewhere a lot less vibrant. Looking at his page on Wikipedia, I found this little gem:
Bragg Close, a street in Dagenham, is named in his honour, and he currently lives in Dorset.
lol. Bragg truly is the living embodiment of the Guardian-reading cliché: I can imagine him sitting in his airy breakfast room reading Polly Toynbee’s latest stream of bullshit with a bowl of organic muesli and cup of overpriced free-trade coffee – with his own version of Die Internationale playing in the background.
It’s just Barking mad.