Ooh-er. An entire book by Melanie Phillips, instead of just a page. Her hands grip tightly around your throat for what seems like aeons, leaving just enough breath for you to mutter, ‘Yes, yes, Melanie, you’re absolutely right — now please let me go.’ Later, when she’s finally gone and you’ve wiped the spittle from your brow, you may be generous enough to reflect that Ms Phillips has indeed been right about Islam — and particularly that near tautology, Radical Islam — for a long time now and pursued her quarry with greater intellectual force and courage than any of her colleagues in Fleet Street and especially those colleagues who are, as Melanie once was, of a leftish tendency. The pitch of Londonistan may occasionally exceed that which is discernible to the human ear, but her shrillness is the result of a wholly justifiable anger that few people in power seem to be listening.

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