Britain’s Muslims at Alton Towers

8 July 2006

I am aware that my earlier references to, on the one hand, handlebar moustaches and the Weather Girls, and on the other to bushy beards and the stoning of sodomites are evidence of a regrettable and rather childish stereotyping. Of course, not all homosexuals dress like that chap from the Village People or own the boxed set of Judy Garland CDs. Not all Muslims wish to murder homosexuals or even hunker down to pray five times each day. Most, I would hope, do not define themselves by their essentially superficial differences from the rest of us. They do not wake up and, before the breakfast coffee has finished percolating, think to themselves: what should I do today, as a Muslim? Or as a queer? Both Muslims and homosexuals are perfectly able to endure a day at Alton Towers and avoid, either through genetic predisposition or a repressive ideology, leering at the profusion of scantily clad women. Muslims are at liberty to eschew the beer stalls and the gambling dens while still being, essentially, one of us, just as are Methodists. If being thrust up against some ghastly chavbabe from Rochester in a boob tube on the dodgems offends, then close your eyes and think of England, or Allah — whichever does the job. Hell, those of us who find not the remotest succour in Allah have to do much the same thing. In this crowded island we are all afflicted with distaste for some of our fellow men and women from time to time, even if that distaste is not always dignified as being God-given.

But to ring-fence an entire day at a public leisure complex because you cannot face being anywhere near the rest of us — that is as eloquent a statement of separateness, of apartheid, as you could wish to get. It says, simply: ‘We find you repulsive to the degree that we cannot share our space with you. We abhor you and the way you live your lives.’ In which case the rest of us may find it all too easy to respond: ‘Well, clear off, then.’

But I do wonder quite what Alton Towers is up to. If, shortly, we discover that they have set aside an unnamed day in September for the Association of Pork Butchers and Renderers, or the British Supporters of Likud, then we will know for sure that they had mischief on their minds and that somewhere, in the background, the hand of Dajjal has been at work.

In the Koran, incidentally, Dajjal represents the rest of us: the Jews and the cockroach infidels. Hell of a nice chap. You should meet him.