The trouble with home cooking is you have no-one else to blame when you poison yourself, especially if there's a lot of blame to go around. It's one thing to be slightly upset with yourself because that new idea for a sauce didn't turn out quite as well as you hoped, but believe me it's quite another to wake up the next day to find you've given yourself dysentery. Last night I dared to challenge the natural order of things by cooking Lancashire hotpot while having the sheer classless gall to not be from Manchester. The hotpot deities therefore felt I, as a lower life form, should be punished for my misdeeds and that is how I come to spend my Friday morning shivering, sweating and with my evening's entertainment in tatters, unable to go out lest I pebble-dash myself after one too many strenuous dance moves.
On the plus side, when my stomach isn't rolling over on itself like a manic butter-churn, the weakness and what can only be described as minor hallucinations beat most recreational drugs into a cocked hat. Honestly, I'm seeing so many movement trails and distorted words that if you, the casual drug user, happen to run out of your chemical of choice, you can eat some bad hotpot and trip the night away in between bouts of running back and forth from the toilet desperately hoping you won't shit yourself and have a thoroughly good evening for the price of some fancy beef stew a cheap pair of trousers.
But that's quite enough about my bowels, what about the news? Well, the British Association of Muslim Police has called for 'more Muslims in anti-terror units'. I don't see why. I thought that in this age of equality, it didn't matter which book the bloke snapping the cuffs on your wrists happens to follow, or whether or not he has a natty beard, and the only thing that really mattered was that he'd found your bomb and now you were going to prison. I always believed that it really shouldn't matter much to anyone whether your arresting officer is Saudi Arabian, your judge is Cantonese or your jury consists of eleven Cypriot transsexuals and a Bolivian goatherd, but apparently the BAMP (which is a phenomenally silly acronym, but I'm ill and I'm not typing out 'the British Association of Muslim Police' every time) say that it would be an 'invaluable head start' to have officers who have a 'religious, cultural or linguistic understanding' with suspects.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but these offenders' particular bent on religion focusses largely on blowing up everyone else's. Do we really want police officers that understand and identify with that mindset? Do we really need them? Is Superindendent Dal Badu, spokesman for NAMP, really any better at kicking in doors and slapping on cuffs than any white, black, brown or otherwise shaded police officer? What sort of outcry would there be if an argument was made that only white police officers should handle white supremacist suspects, because of 'greater cultural understanding'? Half of London would be on fire within the hour.
The police should not recognise culture. They should not recognise religion. They should recognise the law. The law doesn't care what colour you are or what books you like to read, it's there and you follow it, or some large men in flak vests will come and knee you in the face. That's just the way things are. I, being a good Jewish boy, have never gotten myself arrested, but if my rebellious bowels progress somehow into outright psychosis, I wouldn't expect I'd have the right to swan around doing precisely as I like because PC Ben-Tofer hasn't arrived yet and PCs Smith and N'Sungu don't have the delicate cultural understanding to know where the cuffs go.
In any case, that's all you're getting today. I need to go and explode violently all over the bathroom.
Goodnight.
On the plus side, when my stomach isn't rolling over on itself like a manic butter-churn, the weakness and what can only be described as minor hallucinations beat most recreational drugs into a cocked hat. Honestly, I'm seeing so many movement trails and distorted words that if you, the casual drug user, happen to run out of your chemical of choice, you can eat some bad hotpot and trip the night away in between bouts of running back and forth from the toilet desperately hoping you won't shit yourself and have a thoroughly good evening for the price of some fancy beef stew a cheap pair of trousers.
But that's quite enough about my bowels, what about the news? Well, the British Association of Muslim Police has called for 'more Muslims in anti-terror units'. I don't see why. I thought that in this age of equality, it didn't matter which book the bloke snapping the cuffs on your wrists happens to follow, or whether or not he has a natty beard, and the only thing that really mattered was that he'd found your bomb and now you were going to prison. I always believed that it really shouldn't matter much to anyone whether your arresting officer is Saudi Arabian, your judge is Cantonese or your jury consists of eleven Cypriot transsexuals and a Bolivian goatherd, but apparently the BAMP (which is a phenomenally silly acronym, but I'm ill and I'm not typing out 'the British Association of Muslim Police' every time) say that it would be an 'invaluable head start' to have officers who have a 'religious, cultural or linguistic understanding' with suspects.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but these offenders' particular bent on religion focusses largely on blowing up everyone else's. Do we really want police officers that understand and identify with that mindset? Do we really need them? Is Superindendent Dal Badu, spokesman for NAMP, really any better at kicking in doors and slapping on cuffs than any white, black, brown or otherwise shaded police officer? What sort of outcry would there be if an argument was made that only white police officers should handle white supremacist suspects, because of 'greater cultural understanding'? Half of London would be on fire within the hour.
The police should not recognise culture. They should not recognise religion. They should recognise the law. The law doesn't care what colour you are or what books you like to read, it's there and you follow it, or some large men in flak vests will come and knee you in the face. That's just the way things are. I, being a good Jewish boy, have never gotten myself arrested, but if my rebellious bowels progress somehow into outright psychosis, I wouldn't expect I'd have the right to swan around doing precisely as I like because PC Ben-Tofer hasn't arrived yet and PCs Smith and N'Sungu don't have the delicate cultural understanding to know where the cuffs go.
In any case, that's all you're getting today. I need to go and explode violently all over the bathroom.
Goodnight.
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