Tag: Islamism

Modern Cartoon Characters for Modern Times

Coloniescross, Going Postal

Islam needs characters that children can look up to and learn from, that much is clear from the indications we have from an Australian Muslim group which objects to that most offensive of things, the children’s cartoon character, Peppa Pig.

I assume their objection is base on the fact that Peppa is indeed a cartoon Pig and therefore deeply offensive, as many cartoons and indeed all things porcine are to Islam and, by extension, to the prophet of Islam (PBUH).

I am not a writer of much more than the odd article for Going Postal but I happened to meet up with Colin Cross, a man with some time on his hands who is always happy to offer his services, without fear or favour, for the benefit of community relations.

He was happy to come up with a couple of story boards for a potential series, although, both of us being unable to draw for toffee I am only able to present the text.

Colin suggests it be read in the style of a children’s book, rather than a script, although he feels it would be eminently adaptable for the small screen, as such he has sent a draft to the Head of Children’s Entertainment at the ABBC.

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Advice for dealing with ISIS Jihadists

Glenn, North Chingford

To : Owen.Smith.MP@parliament.uk
Date 28/08/16

Re :Advice for dealing with ISIS Jihadists around the Conference Table.

Dear Mr Smith,

In the unlikely event of your attempt for peaceful Negotiation breaking down over the Arranged Basket of Summer fruits, One should never be without his cat skin dueling gloves dipped in shattered resin and his trusty grandfather Pendulum Clock weight, dropped down the leg of ones 72 button fly buck skin pantaloons .

Steel fish hooks sewn into your smoking Jacket by your Jermyn Street tailor , are worth their weight in gold when in peaceful constructive talks with Bestial Religious Maniacs.

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She was afraid to come out of the water

Flying Hippo, Going Postal

I think I have a bit of a libertarian streak running through me. I believe you should be allowed to do whatever you like as long as you do not adversely affect anybody else.

I am genuinely conflicted with this Burkini debate – because I believe you should be able to wear what you want and I find it worrying that the state wants to interfere in this. But the big question is why on earth would you want to wear it?

How can a religion that dictates what you must wear, eat and interferes with the schedule of your daily life be a good thing? And why on earth are we bending over backwards to accommodate it?

Was our culture so shit that it needs dodgy takeaways, taxi drivers, honour killings and FGM to improve it? No it didn’t. We have done organised religion in this country, we didn’t like it so we got rid of it, and we don’t need it again.

This Muslim conundrum seems to be hanging over us and no one wants to tackle it. Again, that being said and this may be a little controversial to some of the Going Postal faithful, I’m not too bothered about Islam. If the political will was there we could quite easily control it in the UK.

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There’s more than one way to destroy a country

Stay Puft, Going Postal
Stay Puft, destroyer of worlds

I had an epiphany not long ago. Unfortunately it wasn’t a happy epiphany. In fact, it was the very opposite. But I’ll come to that shortly.

First, I’ll begin with what eventually led to my epiphany. I sometimes like to escape into fantasy or daydreams as a way to salve moments of despondency or those periods in which one despairs at the state of the world, and one of the things I like to ponder on is the idea of going into stasis so that I can wake up 100 years from now. As a somewhat eternal optimist, and admittedly perhaps a naïve one, I like to believe that no matter how terrible things are in the world now, surely things will be better in the far future. I’d like to believe that the people of Earth in 2116 will not be living with the daily threat of islamic terrorism and that Britain has not become a nation defined entirely by mosques, halal meat, child grooming and FGM.

When discussing this fantasy scenario with others, it has been pointed out to me that life in 2116 would be so vastly different to what I’m used to that it would be virtually impossible to adapt and become acclimatised. This is certainly true. When one considers the pace of technological advances in only the last 30 years, we can’t begin to imagine what will happen over the next hundred.

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The sin of sins

Gmbd, Going Postal

this continues from my first submission that the management kindly posted.
I said how incredibly lucky I was to have been born in a society open to ideas.
In fact my Geography teacher, who we all thought to be a bit of a dick, actually said “You don’t know how lucky you are to have been born English”
I would agree with his sentiment.
Now previously I explained that I had a misfortune with my ex wife which caused me to question all and everything and I did come to the conclusion that PRIDE is a harmful thing for a mentality.
I examined it and examined it and I can say that PRIDE will do you harm.
Why do I say that, OK it is because you cannot control everything.
It seems like it when you are young but it is not so, if you go with the flow then eventually you will hit a rock. There is nothing you can do about this, it is there, you are moving in currents you do not fully comprehend.

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Beware the Lunatics

Judas was paid, Going Postal

I have some vivid memories of playground experiences during my childhood years. I remember a young girl called Jackie who showed me my first lady willy. I remember Stephen who offered me a tune, no, not the sung variety but a cherry menthol. I also remember the day the lunatics escaped from the asylum.

We were playing hopscotch when suddenly there appeared close by a posse of ruddy faced and panic stricken classmates. I can see in my mind’s eye the terror in the face of one of the lads, half hidden behind his sky blue National Health specs and squint correcting bandage. “There’s loonies on the loose! There’s loonies on the estate.” With all the haste we could manage we ran across to the three-foot-high stone wall that was our only security against the outside world. “There!” he cried; “There they are; can you see them?” I could not see them for love nor money. “Where? Where?” “There down the Meadow!” I lived on the Meadow. Surely these loonies weren’t near to my house? Mum was there alone. How terrible if I should get home and find that Mum had been graped and foraged (or whatever it was that lunatics did!).

Five minutes of eyeball straining passed by and eventually, intrigued by our anxious cries a teacher approached; Mrs Henthorne wanted to know what all the fuss was about and why were we leaning over the wall. “The loonies are on the loose Miss. There’s loonies loose in the Meadow.” She cast a longer stare than we could manage across the landscape of the estate. “All I can see is sheets boys; white sheets blowing in the wind. It’s washday.”

That was my introduction to madness. That’s what we called it in those days. It wasn’t mental illness, it was madness, a derangement of the normal thought processes. Mad people were described as having their wires crossed or brains that has become softened by wicked thoughts. They were rightly locked away from normal people like us.

The local nuthouse was in Chester, twelve miles away, a gaunt Victorian building known as The Deva. Years later I had a friend whose late mother had died in The Deva. She clawed the walls by day and screeched at the ceiling by night. “Did you go to see her?” I enquired. “I wrote letters,” he said, looking at the floor.

How times change.

Madness is different these days. For some inexplicable reason it has become synonymous with violence, even with murder. These gross acts were once understood as emanating from minds that were wicked, evil, maladjusted. They were rarely seen as being symptoms of an illness. People were intelligent beings, and although their view of the world and of other people might become distorted or infected by wild imaginings, they were considered to be responsible for their actions.

I don’t know what it was that sent my friend’s mum over the edge. I don’t think he knew either. All he had to go on was the fact that she acted strangely and was considered enough of a threat to herself and others to be locked up where she could get the appropriate treatment and be confined in a place of relative safety. It was not a nice place, but it was the best that was available. One thing I do know was that there was no talk of radicalisation, or of any other ‘-isation’ that might have contributed to her madness. She was just mad and that was sad.

Judas was paid, Going Postal

Today’s madness is outside, it seems. It does not come from within. It is something that comes to us from another place rather than being a state that we arrive at by ourselves. It happens when we are exposed to forces that take a grip on our understanding, that skew our view of the world and those who live within it. Ideas, creeds, suggestions, political theories; these, they say, conspire to deflect us from the sanity that is the normal state of the mind. In short, the violent are relieved of having any contribution to make to their own state of mind. Should we step out into the street with a machete in our pocket intent on slicing and cubing our neighbours and be successful in our ambition, there will be many who will search around the detritus of our lives looking for reasons. What was it that made us like this? What ‘possessed’ us?

In ancient times the mad were considered to be inhabited by evil spirits. They were cast out of the towns and villages to live amongst the tombstones. There, they could cry to the moon to their heart’s discontent. It seems that we are returning to that past when we seek to find excuses for the murderous treachery of those who live alongside us. The idea that they are evil is just too difficult, too inconvenient to accept, but the evil ones are legion. Such murders are a weekly occurrence. Bombs, blades and bullets pierce, blast and slice their way through innocent and unsuspecting flesh and rational, scientific twenty-first century men and women revert to a first century diagnosis……..the perpetrators are men possessed, mad, lunatics……..not murderers, thugs, or killers. That would be unacceptable and a judgement too far.

With each new outrage I ask, “How many times………?” It seems to me that like the sheets, the truth is blowing in the wind.



What is Islam?

Guardian Council, Going Postal

A lot has been said about Islam being a “Religion of Peace”, at every occasion in the past couple of weeks and occasions there have been, sadly, many. In the light of an increasing number of terror attacks it may have dawned on an increasing number of people that some devotees of Islam have rather atrocious ideas about peace. Yet, another question that could be raised against this backdrop may be whether Islam qualifies as a religion at all. In order to qualify as a religion, a belief system must adhere to two principals: it must A) uphold the universal sanctity of life and B) be beneficial to emulate for all of mankind (A is the necessary and B is the sufficient condition). All major religions fulfil both conditions, except Islam maybe.

Considering what has been happening in the last two decades it seems to be pertinent to raise a few question about the nature of Islam. We have seen people murdered in its name, Muslim and Non-Muslim alike. We have witnessed some of the most brutal and heinous crimes imaginable in our lifetimes. Planes have been flown into skyscrapers, masses of people have been suicide-bombed, kidnapped, beheaded, crucified, thrown from tall buildings and even skinned alive in the name of Islam. Maybe this should give people pause to think about what Islam really is. And yes, more and more people notice something is very, very wrong with the official take on events. Repeatedly, we’ve been told Islamism wasn’t the true Islam but a corrupted form of one of the great monotheistic religions of this world. To tell Islamism and Islam apart has become a much-loved pleasure the self-styled media and political “elite” enjoy at dinner tables across the country. But to differentiate between Islam and Islamism is not a mainstay of Islam itself. Consequently, all that results from this rhetorical trickery is an entirely Western mirage of “The Religion of Peace” whereas in reality Islam sees itself in a constant struggle, a.k.a. “jihad”, with itself. But more importantly with unbelievers, apostates and wrong-believers, particularly those in more developed countries.

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Dateline October 2016

Phil the test manager, Going Postal

Friday 7th October 2016 – A total of 5 separate incidents by individuals comprising of suicide bombing, random shootings, and the horrendous slaughter of 37 children aged between 5 and 6 in a Birmingham C of E primary school by machete.  The MSM conceded that the attacks were indeed co-ordinated to be on the same day and time, but each of the terrorists were deemed to be mentally unbalanced and whilst they followed the Islamic religion of peace, all were said to have been radicalised, and therefore it was nothing to do with Islam.  Many newspaper comments were subsequently shut-down.  The main headlines the following day were not about the children who died or the other 50+ people who died.  It was all about the rise of the “far-right groups” and how this is a terrible thing.  Brexit they said, had a lot to answer for.

Sunday 9th October 2016
Following various mass slaughters across many states in the USA, President Trump announced that congress had now approved that Islam was now a proscribed faith.  No Muslims would be allowed to enter the country, and all Mosques would be shut-down.  Imam’s would face immediate deportation to a Sharia compliant country of their choice, and were to report to their nearest police station with their family.

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The massacre of the innocents

JWP, Going Postal
“A voice was heard in Ramah,
Lamentation, weeping, and great mourning,
Rachel weeping for her children,
Refusing to be comforted,
Because they are no more.”
Matthew 2:18

My children are grown now, but I have grandchildren. As I listen to the weekly serialisation of massacre and mayhem I fear for their future.

It was very different for me. Living in the flightpath of Speke Airport I would lie awake at night and hearing the sound of an approaching plane I would hold my breath, pull up the sheets and count from thirty to zero in nervous anticipation of the incoming Soviet missile. Only after the sound had passed over did I breathe again and often I would drift to sleep more from nervous exhaustion than genuine fatigue. That was fifty years ago. The present peril is not imaginary and the fears I have for my loved ones are much more substantial than the wild imaginings of my childhood nights. The present peril is on our streets, in our shopping malls and on our trains.

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