Those words must mean something different in Manchester…
On the third night of the riots, I was in my little office when I thought, hang on a minute, there’s a bit of an ugly crowd gathering outside. I went outside to say “What’s going on?” and realised, oh, it’s my neighbours. They were forming a posse. One was going, “I’ve got a shovel.” Another was going, “I’ve got an axe.”
‘Someone said we’d need a car as a roadblock and I said I didn’t mind sacrificing my Fiat. (…)
[I]f a load of them had advanced down our street with petrol bombs intent on arson, I would go out with my slightly fey neighbours and beat them to death with garden tools. Because you have no choice when it gets to that point, so…
I can’t remember what your question was…’
RELATED: come back, Luftwaffe — all is forgiven…
RELATED: Oh, never mind — God’ll do it… (or: “The moving finger writes, and having written, hands the summons to the guy who owns the restaurant…”)
More from my site
‘…for the first time in our lifetimes, outside the South, white racial consciousness has visibly begun to rise’- From our bulging “The Hispanic vote doesn’t frickin’ matter, you idiots” file
- Woman who started first battered women’s shelter hates feminism
Journalists! Your moral and intellectual superiors!