Omar Bakri Beats The Drum For Paul McCartney In Israel
“SIR PAUL TERROR TARGET,” screams the – Sunday Express, a shocker illustrated by shot of Sir Paul McCartney caught in the crosshairs.
Thankfully, Sir Paul is reputed for his famous head wobble and there is every chance would-be assassin will need at least a dozen shots to even clip an ear on former Beatle’s tussled head.
Which gives us time to discover the identity of the killer. No, not Heather Mills. No, not Yoko Ono. It’s… Omar Bakri. Yeah, the mad mullah, the Tottenham Taliban, the owner of a green Ford Galaxy and some NHS prescription glasses.
Bakri now lives in Lebanon. But even since he left, the UK tabloids have been bereft of a decent wire-haired loon, a gurning face of rabid Islamicism to call upon when in need of a quote. There’s just aren’t enough nutters out there.
So it has a word with Bakri, who provides good copy:
“Our enemy’s friend is our enemy.
“Thus Paul McCartney is the enemy of every Muslim. We have what we call ‘sacrifice’ operatives who will not stand by while he joins in a celebration of their oppression.
“If he values his life Mr McCartney must not come to Israel. He will not be safe there. The sacrifice operatives will be waiting for him.”
If McCartney does play – and eh says he will – then he could do worse then use Bakri to bang the drum of publicity. What is Bakri but Ringo Starr with a better voice…?
Posted: 14th, September 2008 | In: Celebrities, Tabloids, War On Terror Comments (21) | Follow the Comments on our RSS feed: RSS 2.0 | TrackBack | Permalink
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September 25th, 2008 at 2:54 pm
Well you go to give to the Americans, they join in the hype, they shout and they sing - but politics are rarely taken seriously by the majority of the folk in the US.. Palins shoes and really and truly just her being there has created the distraction that they all want. We should be more like them - here in the UK we take politics far too seriously and the politicians themselves do not take is seriously enough. We can (in the words of the shoes) - do f**k all about anything that the politicians decide to sling at us, so why bother to worry or campaign or anything - just a waste of energy. If I hadnt seen the news, the words “credit crunch” would not have created a fear in me, and having summed up the true extent of it, I personally will be no better and no worse off for knowing that this crunch exists somewhere in the Country. The whole idea is to worry the pants off everyone, and then when it turns out to be a lot less bothersome than the politicians lead us to believe, we start to thank them for the outcome, and they gain credibility for leading us through the dire times, when really the dire times are just a hiccup. If anyone is finding it difficult to sell their house at the moment, blame it on the hype - there is really no crunch and if nobody had heard the news over the last few months, the housing market would still be boyant - FBI investigation about Lehmans? Why am I not surprised. They jumped on the bandwagon and so did the insurance company, in my opinion - and closer to home HBOS - all lining their own pockets because the government have given them a clear path by telling everyone that the crunch had arrive.
September 25th, 2008 at 2:32 pm
I know, but he was an inspiration to millions!
He couldn’t drum, he couldn’t sing, and he became a rock star…
God, he’s got a lot to answer for…
September 25th, 2008 at 2:26 pm
Paul McCartney said “let’s face it, Ringo wasn’t the best drummer in the world”.
To which wonderful John Lennon retorted “Ringo wasn’t the best drummer in the Beatles”.
September 15th, 2008 at 4:23 pm
No.
That sort of f*ck up produces booty in the shape of fulsome apologies and vouchers, which is why the b*stards never do it…
September 15th, 2008 at 3:46 pm
I always thought f**k me shoes were one six-inch red patent leather stiletto and one scuffed fawn orthopedic shoe, delivered in the same box from the mail order company - as in “F**k me, I’m never buying anything from these people again.”
September 15th, 2008 at 3:43 pm
Gaveyeard flowers=ghoulish and horrible. Roundabout flowers = poor man’s milk tray man. Especially if they are wrapped in the hastily peeled off reflective chevron coating of the curved signs.
September 15th, 2008 at 3:39 pm
I thought it was graveyard flowers….
September 15th, 2008 at 3:38 pm
…spot on, chenier !
September 15th, 2008 at 3:36 pm
The XY world, for me at least, is divided into men who think roundabout flowers (picked in the small hours in the wash of headlights and with the constant threat of discovery by unsympathetic peelers) are more romantic than the £60 bouquet their boss once got his secretary to buy for his other mistress (on the company credit card, of course).
Hopeless? Yes. Romantic? Possibly. Wanted by Interpol’s Parks and Civic Beautification arm? Ssssh…
September 15th, 2008 at 11:30 am
The XY world is divided into guys who get f*ck me shoes and those who don’t.
The tricky bit is distinguishing between f*ck me shoes and don’t f*ck with me shoes; a mistake there can be exceedingly painful…
September 15th, 2008 at 12:09 am
I see from the original post and the comments, chenier, that there is no little red ball on the end of your foil. I doff my cap.
September 15th, 2008 at 12:00 am
I’m raising a glass of cheap Pinot Grigio. The ‘Pink Peony Selection’ apparently. Despite the lovely copperplate on the label, I think I’ll be keeping the rest of the bottle to clean my contact lenses with.
Also, what the f**k are f**k me shoes. Does ANY man know what they are, and if not, isn’t the point of wearing them lost on us?
September 14th, 2008 at 11:43 pm
Or, to be pedantic, her go-go boots.
I think I need a very strong drink…
September 14th, 2008 at 11:41 pm
For some reason that brings to mind the gentleman who strangled his sister for privately mourning on a day of public festivity, though I’m far from clear why.
Possibly because allegedly reputable newspapers can think of nothing better to discuss about the forthcoming election than Sarah Palin’s f*ck me shoes…
September 14th, 2008 at 11:31 pm
How did you hear about Magniette - my poor, dear (and somehow, bizarrely French) sister? She had a…a brain disorder. It wasn’t her fault, and no-one really missed those four double-glazing salesmen anyway. At least, not to my knowledge.
We don’t think about her much these days. To be honest, we didn’t even look back at her wan face at the window of the walled-up room in the old house as we left. Or leave her any food. Oops.
Oh, well. Water under the bridge. Unless she got out somehow, of course…
September 14th, 2008 at 9:29 pm
Ringo was the quiet one, wasn’t he?
September 14th, 2008 at 8:34 pm
Magniette - brilliant
September 14th, 2008 at 11:18 am
You get bonus points for the wince factor, you Clever Trevor you; just as well, really, when you are dealing with Thomas the Tank Engine…
September 14th, 2008 at 11:07 am
So…(and even I’m wincing at this)…Bakri is the Fatwah Controller?
September 14th, 2008 at 11:01 am
Bit of a bummer, that one.
Obviously I wish them all well, and I’ve no complaints at all; times change, they said, and we have to change with them. No place for a craftsman anymore; it’s all automated nowadays….
September 14th, 2008 at 10:50 am
Sacrifice operatives? I pity the one poor Aztec bloke who turned up for that interview. He had his own ceremonial flint knife and everything. He didn’t even get any travel expenses for the journey back either as you don’t get receipts for walking.