High life | 1 June 2017

I feel like an obituary writer, what with Nick Scott, Roger Moore, Alistair Horne — all great buddies — and now my oldest and closest friend, Aleko Goulandris, dead at 90. Mind you, they all had very good lives: plenty of women, lots of fun, accomplishments galore, and many children and grandchildren. And they all reached a certain age — what else can you ask of this ludicrous life of ours?

Well, I won’t be writing about the high life this week, but scum life instead. And I’ll tell you why: those innocent young children slaughtered by that Islamist scumbag in Manchester, that’s why. Those sweet young lives deserved better, and what drives me to tears is that none of this had to happen — not in Paris, Brussels, Berlin, Boston, Orlando, London or anywhere else where Islamist scum has murdered and maimed the innocent and defenceless.

It does not require a functioning occipital lobe to point the finger at the guilty party: political correctness. During the second world war, anyone under the slightest suspicion of having sympathies for the Axis powers was immediately interned. At times they went overboard, as, for example, when Oswald and Diana Mosley were jailed, a couple who were as likely to aid and abet Britain’s enemies as I am to change sex.

But here we have Angela Merkel handing out her usual baloney, having opened her borders to more than a million migrants, many of them posing as refugees. Or that other clown from Luxembourg, who I wish had been in Manchester last week and had lost a leg or two, or maybe his miserable life. And what about my golden boy Trump? What has he done lately? Instead of sticking to his guns and keeping Muslims out, as he pledged during his campaign, he goes to Saudi Arabia and inserts his orange face deep into the rectum of the man whose country started the whole murderous campaign against us by financing terror and the schools all over the world that teach it.