Sharia poster boy

Well, we needed something to lift the gloom of the last week or so, and the comical side of religious fascism is nowhere more evident than in that ludicrous oaf Andy Choudary who has been up to his old tricks again with another publicity stunt and another bluff waiting to be called. You'll remember Andy, of course. He's Britain's best known benefit-scrounging hate-preaching Islamist parasite. If you live in Britain, you pay all his bills for him. You pay his rent, you buy his groceries, you pay for his heating. Everything he needs is served up to him on a plate, courtesy of you, so that he can devote all his time to being a public nuisance. And, true to form, it seems that this week Andy and his little raggle-taggle army of aspiring mental patients have been going around putting up posters in the East End of London declaring the area a sharia-controlled zone. And this means no alcohol, no gambling, no music. None of the things that ordinary people like to do for entertainment in their free time will be allowed. I must admit I was a bit disappointed to hear that the local authority immediately started taking down these posters. Typical bureaucrats. Always want to spoil people's fun. They ought to be selling tickets for this one, because Andy and his little gang of bearded apes have made it clear that they intend to patrol the streets of East London enforcing sharia and preventing people from going about their lawful business. I'll be interested to see how that works out for them, because I've known a few Eastenders in my time, and I can't think of anyone with the possible exception of Geordies (that's people from Newcastle) who are less likely to tolerate having their pint of beer, their betting shop and their song and dance interfered with by a bunch of puffed-up bearded blowfish in pyjamas. And that's just the women. So I say leave the posters up, let Andy and the boys patrol the streets, and let the games commence. Peace - if that's not haram.