I haven’t got that much time left, but I’d gladly give ten years of my life to see that homicidal maniac Gaddafi strung up from a palm tree alongside his warthog sons, especially Hannibal Gaddafi, an expert in imprisoning and torturing helpless servants and beating up women in posh Western hotels. What a ghastly world we live in.
Gaddafi has been bullying us for 42 years, his henchmen murdering an English policewoman, killing 1,200 Libyan prisoners in cold blood back in 1996, shooting down an unarmed civilian airliner, then cheering when the convicted terror-bomber is released by a spineless British government more interested in oil and gas than in justice.
About four years ago I met the ghastly Saif Gaddafi in New York and mistook him for a drug dealer — he looked and dressed like one. This is the same Saif who escorted the great Libyan hero Megrahi back to Tripoli when the mass-murderer was freed on compassionate grounds. The younger Gaddafi’s arrogance was breathtaking. He went on Libyan TV last Sunday and blamed the rioting on people who were on drugs. In the meantime, the gangster regime had to bring in French-speaking African mercenaries to shoot unarmed protesters.
To illustrate the bestiality of the Gaddafis, while Saif threatens civil war, the Libyan air force is ordered to bomb and strafe the protesters. Yet two colonels fly their fighters to Malta, disobeying orders as any honourable military person would do. But while this is going on, the Security Council of the UN is having cocktails and talking, instead of declaring Libya a no-fly zone and sending Nato planes to enforce it. Forty-two years of cruelty and emptiness by Gaddafi is now replaced by impudence and bravado.
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