As a Tartan Taliban was detained in Manchester, presumably with his sporran packed with explosives, the UK is on its highest alert since 9-11. Although, for ‘al Qaida’ whose new “base” seems to be Gloucester, car or shoe bombs are a bit of a climb-down after the spectacular and unprecedented aviation feats of that dramatic day. Nevertheless, “martyrs” await an opportunity to strike terror into the heart of the British Establishment, by killing and maiming Xmas shoppers on Oxford Street.

Simultaneous “cars of death” could be getting parked by fanatics at this very moment on Tower Bridge or beside the ‘all-seeing’ London Eye and our Intelligence Agencies appear incapable of preventing it. But suicide bombers are lacking in imagination, they should take a tip from the ‘Comedy Terrorist’ who, dressed as bin Laden in drag, got close enough to the whole House of Windsor to kiss Wills on the cheek. It could so easily have been the kiss of death for the Monarchy.

A journalist can cavort around the Palace before a Presidential State visit, posing as a footman and taking pictures... who could have been a terrorist planting booby-traps, but ‘al Qaida’ have not got their thinking caps on. They are missing opportunities to wreak revenge on emissaries of the ‘Great Satan’ and punishing fellow Muslims and ordinary citizens, most of whom bitterly oppose the ‘war on terror.’ It makes no sense, unless these terrorist cells are operating to assist the New World Order.

With each atrocity, accompanied by scenes of human carnage, which serves as public entertainment, the Police State tightens its iron grip. For our safety, we must not question authority, simply obey, and for security we must relinquish all rights. I am practically a criminal for getting up in the morning... we have CCTV trained on us lest we violate the rule which forbids the anti-social habit of dropping litter on the pavement, yet the government can flout International Law and drop depleted uranium on defenceless populations.

The Nanny State pretends it wants to wrap us up in cotton wool, in case we hurt ourselves or cause offence to others, while they are really smothering us with an oil soaked rag and threatening to strike a match. But when the body parts start flying around and the rivers of blood flow, it won’t be down The Mall, it will be in the shopping mall, when some sleeper-agent’s shoe explodes in your face.