How does a society counteract the most grotesque attack of radical Islamist terrorism? Obvious, innit? “M” who heads up MI6, dispatches her operatives to a sun-soaked beach in the Bahamas. Their orders are to bring back Commander James Bond from retirement. After bloody battles with drug lords, mafia dons, and a masonic cult, the spooks from Vauxhall Cross discover Bond on a boat with his Beretta 418 and his Iranian girlfriend 36-24-36 (sans burkha, burkini or bikini). Bond sips a dry martini, shaken not stirred, and makes love to the 37th wife in the harem of a Saudi Arabian sheikh (MA, Oxford University). In orgasmic ecstasy, which she experiences only once every five months being on the Sheikh’s rota of 53 wives, she reveals the secrets of the Salafi plot to create a Caliphate in Britain led by a one-eyed Imam, who has a hook for a hand and a leg like Long John Silver. His code name is Octopussy Ahmed.
Does my satire offend the reader? Is this caricature of 007 and the Secret Intelligence Service trivialising the recent terror attack in Manchester? Or am I mocking our gutless, spineless, and lily-livered response to a crisis of horrific proportions, that will not get better but will only get worse? The industry of public grieving regulated by the Ministry of Public Grief has not been put to shame despite numerous writers pouring scorn on its outpouring of rivers of crocodile tears and scented candle wax.
How does a society counteract the most grotesque attack of radical Islamist terrorism? James Bond? Why not? He gives me hope. Despite his weakness for orgies with women of varied ethnicities (which must bring some comfort to the Left), the Bond movies still distinguish between good and evil, victims and terrorists. At least the real version of MI6 has not adopted the guidebook Talking about Terrorism that is the latest fad in our education system and teaches children that terrorists kill people because they think they are being ‘treated unfairly and not shown respect.’ Most importantly, Bond is licensed to kill—at least he can execute Jihadi Johnny before this immigrant from Libya or Yemen or Somalia blows up my kids at the next rave in the nave.
But what if Bond refuses to return to defend his country and use his license to kill? Nil desperandum Ariana Grande duce et auspice Ariana Grande! Permit me to (mis)-quote Horace’s Carmina, ‘No need to despair with Ariana Grande as your leader and Ariana Grande to protect you.’ Ariana Grande is our latest secret weapon against militant Islam!
Like Joan of Arc, she will lead her armies of Instagram followers against the legions of suicide bombers. Like Jael, from the Old Testament book of Judges, she will hammer a tent peg into the head of the marauding general Sisera and inspire her bubble-gum popping tween and teen crusaders to great acts of girly and womanly valour. Terrorists will tremble while she kills them softly with her songs. On Sunday, Ms 007 Grande is back in Manchester. Tickets for her concert, One Love Manchester, sold out in six minutes. Ariana Grande will be accompanied by other celebrity defenders of Western civilisation like Miley Cyrus, Katy Perry, Usher, Coldplay, Take That and Justin Bieber.
Last Sunday I asked my congregation if they thought things were going to get better or worse. Every single soul (including children) put up their hands and said they believed things would get worse. So how do we counteract radical Islamic terror?
I put it to my Sunday School Superintendent Rosalind Taisia. She is as tough as nails, afraid of nothing, and a product of two cultures—the Isle of Man and the Solomon Islands. She is blessed with seven children and sixteen grandchildren. She is one of our finest Sunday School teachers. Week after week, Ros and I conspire to offer our children the best of biblical teaching with the best of Western culture. Three years ago, she took the Sunday School through a series of nine paintings by Caravaggio, Rembrandt, Van Gogh, Daniel Bonnell, and other great artists—all inspired by biblical themes. ‘Would you take your children, grandchildren or Sunday School children to an Ariana Grande concert?’ I asked her.
She snapped open her laptop, hammered the plastic keys and buried herself in the world of teen-goddess Ariana Grande. ‘The opening page of Ariana’s official website is soft porn. In one of the most sexually explicit videos, she lies back on the bonnet of a car, and a young man is intimately examining every curve and crevice of her body in the most provocative manner imaginable. Other videos have similar suggestive and sexualised scenes. There is a lesbian scene in a launderette,’ she elaborated. By the time I checked out the website, it had evolved into some sort of Roman orgy on washing machines.
I checked out the lyrics of Ariana’s songs. They match the semi-porn vignettes on her videos. ‘Boy, you make me make bad decisions. Don’t you know I ain’t f*****g with them good boys? Know you love me like ain’t nobody here, boy. If you want it, boy, you got it. Ain’t you ever seen a princess be a bad bitch?’ Ariana sings in Bad Decisions.
There is racist content. In Let me love you, singer Dwayne Carter stimulates Ariana with the lyrics: ‘I say, “Girl, you need a hot boy.” She say, “You need to stop f*****g with them thots, boy.” I say, “You need a real nigga?” She said, “Yes”, Lord.’ Dwayne is black so the racism is acceptable!
In Moonlight, the man she is singing about ‘Makes me want to give him my body.’ Into you calls for ‘A little less conversation and a little more “touch my body” Cause I’m so into you, into you, into you, oh yeah.’
The terrorist’s bomb exploded during Dangerous Woman. The song begins with the lines: Don’t need permission/Made my decision to test my limits/‘Cause it’s my business, God as my witness/Start what I finished/Don’t need no hold up/Taking control of this kind of moment/I’m locked and loaded/Completely focused, my mind is open. It goes on with these profound and noble Victorian words: “All that you got, skin to skin, oh my God/ Don’t ya stop, boy” … “somethin’ ‘bout you makes me wanna do things that I shouldn’t” … “All girls wanna be like that, bad girls underneath, like that.”
So this is how we counteract the most grotesque attack of radical Islamist terrorism! With a celebrity singing sex-sodden songs and flashing frenzied orgiastic videos! After 007, is this the 21st secret weapon of Western civilisation—carefully calibrated to instil and inspire the highest values of courage, truth, and decency in young girls and send the barbarian hordes of terrorists within our gates fleeing to their caves in the Tora Bora mountains of Afghanistan?
If this secret weapon of audio junk doesn’t work, Miley Cyrus’ phallic foam finger pointing and touching her male co-star’s penis might certainly trigger a burst of testosterone that Western civilisation needs to fight our most critical war since the end of Nazism. Isn’t it such a great boost to our national morale that Miley Cyrus will performing at the concert on Sunday evening with Ariana Grande?
Maybe the concert will end with the performers and audience singing Onward, Christian soldiers or at least God Save the Queen. No! No! Now that would be really immoral in diverse and multicultural Britain. We don’t want to be thought of as Crusaders, do we?