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Unidentified Headline 91

A weekly column reproduced from the Bristol Evening Post


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18.00 Holiday: The team go on pilgrimage to Mecca. Again; 18.30 Top of the Prophets: Will the Koran be No.1 for the 63,728th week running?; 19.00 Who wants to be a Mujahadin?: Will contestants phone a Mullah, go “inshallah”, or ask the Islamic council?

20.00 FILM: Shariah’s Angels: The three burkha-clad sleuths go undercover to expose an evil scheme to educate women; 21.30 Big Brother: Who will be taken out of the house and executed this week?; 22.30 Shahs in their Eyes: More hopefuls imitate famous destroyers of the infidel.

23.30 They Think It’s Allah Over: Quiz culminating in the “Feel the Camel” round; Midnight. When Imams Attack: Amusing footage shot secretly in mosques. The filmers were also secretly shot; 12.30 a.m. The West Bank Show: Arts programme looking at anti-Israel graffiti art in the occupied territories.1.30 Bhuffi the Infidel Slayer; 2.00 A Book at Bedtime: The Koran. Again.


And then there’s this variation on an urban myth which was doing the rounds last week:

I was on the Underground travelling on the Northern line. A man of Arabic appearance got off the train and I noticed that he had left his bag behind. I grabbed the bag and ran after him, caught up with him at the top of the escalator and handed him back his bag.

He was extremely grateful to me and reached into his bag which appeared to contain large bundles of banknotes. He offered me a reward, but I refused.

“So he looked round, made sure nobody was looking and whispered to me: “I can never repay your kindness, but I will try to with a word of advice for you. Stay away from Aberdeen Steak Houses.”

I was terrified. “Is there going to be an attack?” I whispered.

“No” he whispered back “I went there yesterday evening – the food was crap and the dessert selection extremely limited.”

Pip, pip!
— BARRY BEELZEBUB

The views of Mr Beelzebub are purely personal and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the Editor or staff of this newspaper, or of the lazy Liverpool post office workers who went to work with a pocketful of Homepride self-raising and then blagged a day off.

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