In light of all the shite that’s going on recently, I’ve been having a bit of a think about things. What I’m doing over here, where would be best to raise the kids, those kinds of things. We’ve talked a lot about moving home over the past few weeks, even before this latest terrorist cock-up happened.
The only thing holding us back is the several hundred thousand Euro we need to buy a property in Galway. Can anyone spot me?
Since your blogs are banned for me at work, the BBC website is now my only friend. Reading the Have Your Say section on the situation, the general consensus among UK citizens seems to be “I say old chap, you’re more likely to be killed crossing the street than you are to be blown up by terrorists. Just live your life as normal.”
Fair enough. If we succumb to terror, they’ve won, and all that bollocks. Good old British stiff upper
lad lip. I’m not sure how to “live as normal” though. Given the media saturation, you can’t help but have the attack colour your outlook on things. Is it a coincidence that until now Scotland’s been untouched, yet the very week a Scot becomes Prime Minister, this happens?
Frankly I think people who say it’s not impacting them in the slightest are either full of shit or are a biteen delusional. The fact that they have to crow about how they are completely unaffected by terrorism, on a message board about terrorism, well, face it lads, if it wasn’t affecting us, there would be no message board. There would be no discussion.
Today, as I trudged typical through Monday morning, I passed this Asian-looking lad standing at the boot of his car. There was a gas cylinder and cardboard boxes of…something, in the boot. The car was parked outside a culturally significant building in Glasgow city centre. A week ago, I would not have glanced twice at this. This morning, I took his reg and reported him to the police. Was it that repeated-to-the point-of-nonsensifying word, vigilance, or was it plain old first-drag-of-a-joint-since-college paranoia? I still don’t know. What swung it for me was the thought that if something did happen and I’d not said anything, it’d plague me. Guilt, y’know. We Irish are brilliant at it.
Of course, right now, rather than feeling the guilt of saying nothing, I’m feeling the guilt of causing some likely-innocent chap to endure a shitload of harrassment from the police, predicated on nothing more than him being Asian and having a gas canister in his boot. The ability to wrangle guilt out of any given situation no matter what decision you make takes years of Catholic dogma to achieve, and should only be carried out by professionals in a controlled environment. Do not try this at home.
People keep making that reference: “you know, you’re more likely to be knocked down by a bus”, and so forth. What the fuck that has to do with the price of bacon, I don’t know. One thing is an accident, the other is a bunch of mental cunts intent on killing anyone who doesn’t subscribe to their fucked-up ideology. And that, seemingly, includes most Muslims.
Honestly lads, it was enough to make me pack my bags and move home, until I remembered that statistically, I’m 30,000 times more likely to be beaten to death by horrible stinky knackers in Galway than I am to be killed in a terrorist attack in Glasgow.
So what would you have done today? Reported it, or said nothing? In all seriousness, I do feel a bit foolish for doing it, but I don’t regret it.
I’ll tell you what too, the police cop I gave my statement to was a bit of alright. She was giving me the eye bigtime, but I gave it back – it was all sticky with eye-juice. Ugh. Still, I might give her a call and see if she’s free this weekend – I’ve got a stag weekend down in Newcastle that she’d be welcome to “bust”. Heh.