Last night, quite by chance, I watched a documentary (old) about Huang Chuncai – China’s Elephant Man. A young man with facial tumours so severe it was difficult to see a face there at all, and so heavy he had to carry them in order to move around. Poverty and isolation had condemned him to a half-life for 26 years, and for 26 years his family had supported him, cared for him and grieved for his pain, both physical and emotional.
And as I watched, I thought of the Paris terrorists, and I thought You selfish, self-centred, decadent little arseholes. You know nothing. Life for you has been so easy, so cushy, that you’ve had to drum up a ‘cause’ to keep yourselves entertained: become outlaws to make yourselves feel important.
Huang Chuncai has more dignity and more courage in his little finger than they have in their whole organisation.
They might call themselves Muslims, but the Muslim community doesn’t want them. They might claim they’re working for Islam, but Islam condemns killing. They might think they’re big men, but they’re not. They’re little boys hooked on the excitement of belonging to the best-known boys’ club. They’re poseurs.