Thursday, 25 May 2017

Heading Our Way

One of my Campaign Patrons, whose election at Manchester Gorton equals in urgency the defeat of all Labour candidates in County Durham apart from Grahame Morris, George Galloway writes: 

Salman Abedi was neither a refugee nor an immigrant.

His family were anti-Gaddafi exiles given sanctuary in Britain, and the child-killer Abedi who massacred so many innocents in Manchester on Monday night was born, raised, and expensively educated here. 

In the warped way of things, the child-killer and his family cheered on David Cameron and Nicolas Sarkozy as they bombed Libya into pieces.

Then he bombed us.

Nobody should ever forget the role that Cameron played in the overthrow of the absurd Gaddafi regime.

And achieved a result few could have thought possible, making Libya an even worse mess than it was under the Colonel.

The House of Commons Foreign Affairs Select Committee rightly slated Cameron’s role in this grisly imbroglio.

But by then, like a thief in the night, the ignominious Mr. Cameron had slipped away into the deserts of Panama.

Far from learning the lessons as Sir John Chilcot might have put it, of the Iraq catastrophe, Cameron, Sarkozy and Gaddafi’s closest European counterpart, Italian Prime Minister Berlusconi, repeated it all over again.

With grimly predictable results, predictable at least by all but those we pay to govern us.

And their obeisant hookers in the mainstream media who hang on their every word.

Metaphorically, of course. It is others who hang as a result. 

We were treated to the full playbook of the ‘Demon Must Go’ propaganda script.

Gaddafi was going to “kill his own people”, not something which much troubled us when Jack Straw and other not-ables were conniving in the kidnap of anti-Gaddafi dissidents and their return with black bags over their heads to the dictator’s torture tables.

I will remember forever the solemn BBC news reports which informed us that Gaddafi was dishing out Viagra to his soldiers to encourage them to rape women in Eastern Libya.

The Colonel’s barely existing army was said to be going to fall on Benghazi and murder every last person in it, house to house.

“Something must be done” was the familiar cry which arose. And something duly was.

The rest is history.

“We came, we saw, he died,” laughed (oh, how she laughed) Hillary Clinton when Gaddafi was sodomised with a length of lead piping before being hacked to death by a frenzied mob.

Nobody is laughing now.

Libya is a non-state, broken into fanatic cantons each ruled by mutually antagonistic militias.

There are three governments and four Prime Ministers; it would take too long to explain.

Its gates to the rest of Africa to the south, and to the Mediterranean and Europe to the north, blow open like an abandoned Wild West saloon door. 

Tumbleweed rolls where big Western businesses used to make plenty from Libyan oil and largess, some of it shared by Western political leaders.

I never met Gaddafi or any of his family. Blair, Mandelson, Sarkozy, Berlusconi and others were not so fortunate. 

The destruction of Libya by the globalist gang of NATO warriors may turn out to be on a par with the disaster in Iraq.

For Europe, perhaps more so.

For there are many more Salman Abedis, and not many goodies, heading our way.

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