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Terrorists hiding in Debenhams?

A weekly column reproduced from the Bristol Evening Post


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The editor of this impressive organ telephones me in a state of some excitement from the city centre, where he’s been handing out white feathers to anti-war protesters.

“Bazza,” he cries. “That terrorist chap is hiding on the third floor of Debenhams!”

Don’t panic. It turns out that the imbecile had just seen a sign for Summer Bed Linen in the shop window. It has to be said that intelligence has never been a prerequisite for his job, and those years of Vimto-abuse haven’t helped either.

So the phony war goes on. I just wish they’d get on with it and bomb some sand or cruise missile a camel.

The Guardian wants Mr Blair to spell out in detail exactly what the Americans intend to do so we can all debate it like adults. A strange idea, that. I don’t suppose Bomber Harris went round asking people on the bus for advice as to which part of Germany to flatten that evening.

Perhaps, to pay lip service to the antis, we should settle this war with a game of conkers. That should keep the lentil-eating Left happy. Or would it count as cruelty to vegetables? Are horse chestnuts vegetables? Discuss.

Anyway, I bet the Taliban soak theirs in vinegar as well as baking them. Unless the Yanks have a year-old, well-seasoned sixer up their sleeves, we could be in a spot of bother.

And quite what we, the average punter, is supposed to do if it all kicks off is a little unclear. Does anyone have an emergency plan in case of terrorist attack? I think we should be told. Obviously, our politicians will be fine. There are enormous underground bunker beneath Town Halls all over the land that will withstand a nuclear attacks.

Don’t worry. Your friendly neighbourhood councillors will be organized enough to start charging a special tax on gas mask users within a couple of hours of the attack.


My satelite telly packed up at the weekend. Instead of 347 channels to choose from, I suddenly found myself with just five.

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