Tag Archives: Islam

Islamic State of Affairs

A video recently surfaced online in which a member of Islamic State appealed for new recruits to join the organisation, not as combatants, but in some of the less celebrated sections of the organisation.

If beheading innocent people isn’t really your thing but you make a mean roulade, maybe you could answer Allah’s call as a chef? Or perhaps after years of suckling at the teat of the infidel you’ve become an electronics whizz. Why not put your heretical education to good use and enjoy an exciting career as a bomb-maker? The most eye-catching job vacancy though was that of ISIS Press Officer, a position that would surely require such a level of spin that it would make even Alastair Campbell dizzy.

It’s hard to imagine why anyone would want to avail of such an opportunity. If one were inclined to become a terrorist you’d think there must be a few insurgent groups out there that at least allow fun things like sex, alcohol and exposing your forearms in public. ISIS on the other hand don’t seem to tolerate anything of the sort, their moral code seemingly a stringent combination of North Korean subjugation, Nazi fanaticism and the moral sensibilities of the old townspeople from Footloose.

If somebody were to take the PR job, however, their first task would probably be to create an Islamic State newspaper; what maniacal group of savages bent on death and destruction can do without its very own propaganda department? Let’s imagine what that newspaper might look like in this, the very first edition of the new weekly publication The Wahhabi Times

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– International News

A round-up of what’s happening in the corrupt wasteland of the apostate that surrounds our heavenly enclave

Elections are due to be held next year to replace the vile infidel Obama as Commander in Chief of the West’s drone war against Arab children, wedding parties, and the odd insurgent or two.

The early favourite to win the vote is Hillary Clinton, whose frigid demeanour and lesbian haircut pushed her husband into the arms of wanton Jewesses during his time in office. Bill spent the rest of his tenure imposing horrific sanctions on the Middle East, bombing pharmaceutical factories and, worst of all, indulging in the venal sin of playing smooth jazz, the most suggestive of all the forbidden music genres. Now his wife looks set to continue his evil but undeniably charismatic reign of terror. The decadent harpy even had the cheek to ask ISIS for a campaign donation.

Other candidates include Rand Paul, who doesn’t even believe in Presidents (witness the hypocrisy of the infidel), and Tom Cruz, star of Top Gun, a revealing documentary on the rampant homosexuality in the US armed forces.

In other international news, we’ve just checked and we can confirm that unfortunately the state of Israel still exists. We are still confident, however, that one of these days Allah will smite them for their sins.

– Domestic News

Keep up to date with current events within the glorious caliphate

Citizens of the caliphate will be delighted to hear that our quest to erase all of the profane historical artefacts from the region is proceeding exactly as planned. There is a fitting quote to sum up our efforts in this area concerning those erasing the past and something about the future, but unfortunately we burnt the last library to the ground last week so nobody can go and look it up.

Our troops are currently in training for their toughest task yet: the destruction of the pyramids. Once we liberate our Egyptian brothers these polytheistic atrocities must be torn down as a message to idolaters the world over. While the unit has not yet perfected its strategy, their commander informs me that the large number of deaths by crushing suffered during training is perfectly normal, and that they are right on the cusp of developing a foolproof tactic.

– Sport

Make the most of all the latest sporting action in the region before the few sports that are left get banned too

The Islamic State softball league continues apace, with Wahhabi Wanderers climbing to second place yesterday with a crushing win over the Sunni Delights. Prophets Over People still sit atop the league but will be disappointed to hear that their star pitcher was caught stealing bread to feed his family over the weekend and promptly had both hands chopped off. He remains optimistic, however, that this is but a minor setback, and he’ll be back in action before the end of the season. What a professional.

– Arts

What’s going on this week in the wonderful but admittedly extremely limited and strictly curtailed world of culture this week?

Mohammed Mohammed (not the one from Mosul, the other one) debuted his one-man play this weekend in the Mohammed theatre in Aleppo. Abu Hamza: Hooked on a Dream is a powerful portrayal of one man’s brave struggle against oppressive Western values.

The six-hour running time absolutely flies by, so engrossing is this modern tale of heroism and courage in the face of adversity. The lead actor is so accomplished he didn’t even break character as the theatre was torn down around him in protest by some in the audience who felt his bow before the interval was a little too flamboyant.

This reviewer would even admit to having a tear in his eye during the final musical number (the incredibly catchy You Hook Me All Night Long) but obviously he can’t, since such blatant sentimentality would of course be a beheading offence.

– Television

Having a lazy day with no stoning or beheading to go to? Kick back and watch some TV. Here’s our guide to what’s on this week

The brand new ISIS TV network Caliph-8 continues to be a resounding success. The top-rated programme this week was Fast and Furious, a reality show pitting competitive fasters against each other to see who can praise Allah with their hunger the most. Other popular shows include Axe Factor, the search to find a new public executioner, and of course the much-loved talent contest Strictly No Dancing.

Unfortunately efforts to re-create some famous Western shows for an IS audience have been somewhat less successful. Keeping up with the Qur’dashians, a light-hearted look at the hectic lives of three high-maintenance sisters from Tikrit, has not been received well. Since the titular women aren’t allowed to drive or have jobs, the show basically consists of the trio just sitting around doing nothing all day. As such it’s pretty much a carbon copy of the US version, which has not endeared it to the local populace.

The much-vaunted Muslim version of Friends has also proved something of a failure after the decision to replace the six twenty-something protagonists with a group of elderly clergymen who sit in a halal café fervently discussing difficult theological questions. This has also sadly led to the cancellation of a number of other impending projects, such as the hotly anticipated Two and a Half Yemen.

– Travel

Our travel correspondent is here to tell us about the launch of ISIS Air

ISIS is pleased to announce that very soon our citizens will be able to travel in luxury with the launch of ISIS Air, a new airline that will service the entire region. King Salman of Saudi Arabia has been kind enough to provide us with an entire fleet of jets, since he’s replacing them all anyway with this year’s new models. As soon as the planes have been fitted with cages to hold animals and wives safely during journeys they’ll be put into service.

A squad of elite pilots is currently in training to become the flight crews for this new venture. We’re told the only slight difficulty has been teaching them how to land the planes, a skill they’ve obviously never needed before.

– Technology

Learn of the technological advances that will aid us in our holy war

In its war against the infidel ISIS has been forced to use the wicked social networking tools of the apostate, like Twitter, Facebook and YouTube. Of course we know that these services are simply Zionist spying networks in disguise but until now we’ve had no choice but to use them.

Soon, however, that may not be the case. Our web developers are hard at work creating a brand new and exclusive social media tool that we can use to spread our message throughout the world.

We had originally outsourced the project to a secret ISIS cell in the US, but unfortunately this turned out to be a cunning ruse by the CIA. Instead of sending us the coding we needed they instead sent us some rather crudely photo-shopped pictures of American heroes like Hulk Hogan and The Rock defecating on the Black Flag of ISIS.

They also sent millions of megabytes of offensive and disgusting Western pornography. It took us weeks to watch all of it, just to make sure the coding wasn’t in there somewhere.

– Agony Abdul

Our Agony Uncle Abdul answers readers’ queries on a range of topics. This week’s letter is from Aziz in Baghdad

Dear Abdul,

In the Quran it says that “Allah enjoins justice and the doing of good to others…and forbids indecency and manifest evil and wrongful transgression.” How can we reconcile this message with the actions of ISIS?

Dear Aziz,

The Quran says a lot of things. It also says “I will cast terror into the hearts of those who disbelieve. Therefore strike off their heads and strike off every fingertip of them.” Now some people might say that such a contrast illustrates just how ridiculous it is to take the word of the Quran literally. I, on the other hand, say that people who say this should have their heads and fingertips cut off. It’s a fine line we walk, Aziz, a fine line.


Ode to Osama

In the wake of the recent Kenyan shopping centre attack, much opprobrium centred on the alleged role of a 29-year old British woman, Samantha Lewthwaite, or ‘The White Widow’, the somewhat derivative but admittedly catchy sobriquet bestowed on her. Lewthwaite was married to 7 July 2005 suicide bomber Germaine Lindsay, and is currently wanted by Interpol in relation to suspected terrorist activity.

After raiding her house in Mombasa, Kenya recently, detectives found a laptop that betrayed a long history of research into chemicals and bomb making. They also found a 34-line elegiac poem to the deceased al-Qaida leader Osama bin Laden, the full text of which can be found here.

This fulsome ode in honour of a murderous terrorist has, unsurprisingly, outraged Britain’s conservative media. As a response, and in order to evoke the average Briton’s take on such an unpalatable affair, the Daily Mail recently organised its own poetry compilation, accepting submissions from ordinary people around the country on the subjects of bin Laden, religious extremism, and modern, multicultural Britain.

Below is an extract from the collection of poems, with observations by the renowned Mail columnist Richard LittleEngland, an effusive, outspoken commentator known for his traditional values and moral fortitude.

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Hello, and welcome to the inaugural Daily Mail poetry compendium. We’ve been inundated with responses from people who love their country and their way of life. Reading your entries has made me even prouder than usual to be British. Below is just a small flavour of the poems we’ve received, with brief analysis from yours truly, Richard LittleEngland.

(P.S. Don’t forget, my new book, No Thanks, We’re Full: The Real ‘Big Issue’ of Our Time is available to buy in all good bookshops from next Monday.)

~

There once was a menacing sheikh
Who had the inordinate cheek
To proclaim his disdain
With a couple of planes
But the Yanks put an end to his clique

Trevor, Middlesex

Excellent work, Trevor. He was a cheeky old sod alright, wasn’t he? I always think of limericks as the lost art form.

~

Go home ragheads,
We don’t want you here
20 quid to the airport?
I’ll get a white driver next time
But I still like curry

John, Barnsley

Well…that’s a courageous use of the free verse technique John, I’ll give you that. Moving on…

~

The fire of Islam
Hot embers slip through the grate
It’s smoky in here

Quentin, Cambridge

Nice haiku, Quentin. A bit highbrow though, don’t you think? Try not to show off so much.

~

The boy from Riyadh, a gun in his hand,
Knew no other course but that of martyr
The infidel had raped his land,
From ancient Maghreb to modern Jakarta

Armed by those he wished to destroy,
He held his hand and played their pawn
Within him burned a latent ploy,
He would enact before the dawn

And on young minds his words did prey,
His lecture holding them in thrall
Until he sent them on their way,
As New York summer turned to fall

But monsters thus are never born,
And not for nothing was his scorn

Rob, Edinburgh

Eh, I think you’ve missed the point here Rob. Don’t you love your country? Or are you a Communist? Come on people, let’s get back on message…

~

Muslims in my corner shop,
Muslims on my street
Muslims wearing silly dresses,
Muslims in bare feet
Muslims taking all our jobs,
Muslims on the social,
Muslims fucking everywhere,
Muslims by the bowlful,
Muslims.

Lee, Bradford

Great stuff Lee, that’s more like it. I especially liked the part about the Muslims.

~

Whence this veiled threat?
Kabul? Khartoum? Or simply Kaboom?

East, West, Yin or Yang?
Josiah, Sharia, Qu’ran or Kerrang?

We offend the effendi,
A jihad he had

Fat chance a fatwa
From distant Islamabad

Will Allah wither
Or whither Allah?

Sunni or Sunnah
In sunny Caliphornia?

Stephen, London

Eh…it’s a bit esoteric, isn’t it Steve? That’s not even how you spell California. You bloody public schoolboys are too clever for your own good. 

~

An angel’s smile is what you sell
You promised me Heaven, then put me through Hell
Chains of love got a hold on me
When passion’s a prison, you can’t break free

Osama, you’re a loaded gun
Osama, there’s nowhere to run
No one can save you
The damage is done

Shot through the heart
And you’re to blame
You gave Islam a bad name (bad name)
I played my part and you played your game
You gave Islam a bad name (bad name)
Yeah, you gave Islam, a bad name

Deborah, Swansea

Bravo Deborah, a tour de force. Although it seems slightly familiar to me, I hope it’s all your own work?

~

And so ends our poetic celebration of Britain. Let this stand as a testament of our resolve in the face of political correctness and multiculturalism gone mad. Join us next week in the Arts and Culture section, when we’ll be seeking submissions of paintings and sculptures that capture the failings of the NHS.


From Arabia with Love

The much publicised anti-Muslim propaganda film The Innocence of Muslims has led to much bitterness and resentment in the Middle East in recent weeks. Amidst the violent protests and outraged condemnations seen around the Arabic world, reports suggest that a number of Middle Eastern governments have united in a project designed to avenge the offence and humiliation suffered as a result of the film.

Just a few short weeks before the release of Skyfall, the new James Bond movie, indications are that an Islamic version of the popular spy franchise has been hastily readied for release. The plot concerns a lone Muslim agent’s endeavour to stop a maniacal Western autocrat who is hell-bent on the destruction of the Middle East. A draft of the script has been intercepted ahead of the film’s release, and the following is a synopsis of said film, provisionally titled On the Ayatollah’s Secret Service.

The action begins in New York City, the decadent metropolis of the infidel. As the sun sets over the harbour the camera pans across the skyline and centres in on the giant outline of the Statue of Liberty. Clutching a sword in her raised right hand and a map of the Middle East in her left, she stands looking disdainfully eastwards across the ocean as if to say: ‘Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses, so I can foist my tyrannical regime upon them and take their shit without asking.’

The camera zooms in behind the blank stare of the immense monument, into the hollow interior of the head. A hunched figure sits behind an enormous wooden desk in a spotlit corner of the cavernous lair, scribbling furiously at a piece of paper. The man is Doctor O, an oppressive despot who has risen to become the Commander in Chief of the Western forces. He was kidnapped from his idyllic Muslim home as a child and secretly raised by Richard Nixon and his gay lover Pat. They instilled the hypocritical ideals of the West in his naive consciousness and brought him up to believe he is destined to bring the crushing yoke of democracy to bear on the savage world of Islam.

The camera zooms in once more to show the paper on Doctor O’s desk, which has the words ‘Operation Freedom’ written on it. On the sheet is a crude crayon picture of the prophet Muhammad being hit by a drone in a highly sensitive area, then repeatedly being choked out by Hulk Hogan who intermittently shouts ‘Woo!’ and ‘I am a real American!’ As a fierce thunderstorm moves in across the bay, flashes of lightning illuminate the twisted, hateful face of the Doctor, cackling dementedly to himself into the empty night, the thought of implementing his fiendish plan giving him an enormous trouser snake.

Thousands of miles away agent Jamal Bond sits slumped against the bar gazing mournfully into the bottom of his glass. ‘Another!’ he shouts at the barman, Mo, whose Halal Bar in Baghdad does a tidy trade in non-alcoholic drinks, savoury snacks and effigies of Western leaders.

‘Come on Jamal, seventy-two Virgin Martinis is enough for any man. It’s time you went home.’

‘I’ll tell you when I’ve had…’

The sound of the door creaking open interrupts the conversation as the pair look towards the entrance. A grizzled old man limps into the bar, flanked by two enormous bodyguards. A lifetime of conflict is evident from one look at the man, whose face is covered with burns and scars, his two eyepatches betraying a history of extreme violence.

‘Bond?’ croaks the harsh timbre of the old soldier’s voice.

Jamal jumps up from his seat and salutes as the elderly officer shuffles over to the bar.

‘I’m afraid your vacation is over agent Bond. You must come with me at once.’

‘Eh, he’s over there,’ responds the barman, pointing down the bar to Jamal.

Within minutes Jamal is seated in the back of a car racing through central Baghdad. The old man briefs him as they weave through the traffic, informing him that they’ve intercepted details of an operation that threatens to bring down all the governments of the Middle East.

‘Ah, you mean Twitter? I knew freedom of expression would be the end of us.’

‘No Bond, this is even more serious than that. We believe Doctor O has developed a new kind of drone that will wipe us off the map. You are the only one that can stop him.’

Jamal turns and looks solemnly out the window.

‘Then I must go to America and kill Doctor O.’

A few seconds pass, then the old man leans over and points out the far window,

‘Therefore you must go to America and kill Doctor O.’

Jamal shakes his head,

‘Seriously, how do you still have a job?’

The car pulls up outside the Iraqi Secret Service’s headquarters, cleverly disguised as an empty shopfront advertising feminist literature on sale inside. Jamal heads for the equipment division, known as Qu’Branch, to collect his kit for the mission. When he arrives agent Qu is busy testing a new piece of technology, a school uniform that is resistant to white phosphorus.

Qu brings Bond over to a table where his equipment has been laid out for him.

‘Our intelligence operatives have prepared a disguise that will allow you to fit in with the infidels. You will wear this leather jacket like their legendary Fonzie, and this do-rag with the American flag on it. We have also procured the new iPhone and set up a Facebook account for you. It is essential that you update this hourly with trivial nonsense or they will realise you are not one of them. Just make sure you don’t use the map on it whatever you do.’

Jamal takes his equipment and gets up to leave.

‘Oh and take this for the plane journey,’ says Qu, handing him a book.

‘Our intel shows that all the American men are reading it. Good luck agent Bond.’

The guard at the passport desk of JFK International Airport motions to the top of the queue, ‘Next please.’ His bored expression turns to a look of mild bemusement as the man approaches the booth. He places his passport on the desk and smiles vacantly at the guard.

‘Howdy partner.’

The guard looks him up and down. He’s wearing a glittery stars and stripes tank top with a moth-eaten leather jacket, a pair of ludicrously tight denim cut-offs, and a pair of brown leather cowboy boots. He has a do-rag on his head but it isn’t tied and keeps blowing off as he stands in front of the desk. The guard glances at his passport.

‘Your name is Chuck?’

‘Yessir.’

‘Chuck Berry?’

‘Yessiree, named after my granddaddy. Good to be back in the ol’ US of A, yessir.’

The guard glances at the book in the man’s hand, the bestselling Fifty Shades of Grey.

‘Yessir I loves this here book. Almost as good as that there Salman Rushdie. I don’t wish him a painful death at all, no sir.’

The guard takes one last look at him and waves him on. Jamal takes his passport and heads for the exit, breathing a sigh of relief that his disguise worked. As he departs he could swear that he hears the guard mutter under his breath, ‘God damn queers.’

Jamal gets into a taxi and heads for the city. All around him he recognises the stench of Western corruption and debauchery. Women walk the streets with their faces and midriffs shamelessly exposed. Jews disguised as businessmen huddle together on Wall Street, no doubt plotting the downfall of the Arabic world. Television screens flaunt America’s famous homosexuals like Ryan Seacrest, Tom Cruise and Joe Biden.

After arriving at his hotel Jamal changes into his tuxedo and heads for the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Doctor O is scheduled to give a speech there this evening at the opening of an exhibit. When he arrives he wanders around and mingles with the other guests. He is mostly disgusted by these elitist Western snobs, although he does have an enlightening conversation with Paul Ryan and Rick Santorum, with whom he discovers he has a lot in common. He also notices quite a few famous paintings that he’s nearly sure he saw hanging in Saddam’s palace back in the glory days, that Saddam told him he had personally painted. These thieving Americans have no shame, he thought to himself.

Eventually Doctor O rises to make his speech. Jamal disdainfully surveys his target from the back of the room, and makes sporadic farting noises in an attempt to distract him. He feels a vibration in his pocket and his ring-tone plays loudly, a recording of Tariq Aziz doing Suspicious Minds at the Christmas party a few years ago. He checks his phone and sees a Facebook message from his superiors:

‘Operation Freedom is a go for tomorrow. Intercept and eliminate target tonight at all costs and stop drone from being fired. End transmission. Oh and have a look at the YouTube video I embedded. It’s a dog miaowing like a cat! LOL!’

After viewing the hilarious video Jamal waits until the end of the speech, then follows Doctor O and his entourage as they leave the museum.

After following the Doctor’s limousine in a cab, Jamal finds himself at the foot of the statue of Liberty. The front entrance is heavily guarded so he scales the statue in order to reach the head. Slipping in a window, he sees Doctor O standing at a control panel in the centre of the room.

‘I’ve been expecting you Mister Bond,’ says the Doctor, turning to face him.

Jamal takes out his pistol and aims it at him.

‘It’s over Doctor, step away from that panel.’

The Doctor holds his finger tantalisingly over a giant red button.

‘We’ve been dabbling in chemical warfare for a long time agent Bond, and we’ve finally perfected in drone form a weapon of unimaginable power.’

‘What are you talking about you maniac?’

‘Isn’t it obvious? What do you hate most, Jamal? What would tear the Middle East apart like no amount of explosive tonnage ever could?’

Bond’s face slowly becomes transfixed with horror.

‘You don’t mean…’

‘Oh yes,’ replies the Doctor, grinning smugly, ‘a gay bomb.’

With that remark Doctor O slams his fist on the button as Jamal fires a volley of shots in his direction. The Doctor scampers down a stairway, and with the rumbling of a missile being prepared for launch clearly audible nearby, Bond follows him down into the darkness.

Jamal finds himself in the main foyer area, a circular room lined with all the flags of the world. Suddenly Doctor O leaps up and hurls the New Zealand flag across the room, narrowly missing Bond’s head and knocking his gun across the floor out of his reach. He reaches for the Australian flag, then the British one, launching them with a venomous, consuming anger at Jamal, who ducks for cover beneath a table

‘Damn minnows can’t get the job done,’ mutters the Doctor to himself as he picks up the US flag and begins to run towards Bond. Jamal notices he is crouching beside the flag of his motherland, Iraq. With the thoughts and prayers of the millions across the Arabic world on his shoulders, and a steely determination in his eyes, he grasps his destiny with both hands and turns just as Doctor O comes flying through the air to finish him off. A piercing scream echoes around the dark chamber as the evil dictator is fatally impaled. His face contorts horribly as he takes his last breath, and collapses into a heap. The flag of his country, held aloft in his arms, along with its pride and avarice, its sins and its self-importance, its delusions of splendour and greatness, comes crashing down on top of him, and all is silent.

Jamal races back up to the control room and hits the Abort button on the panel. He runs out to the observation deck just in time to see the giant drone explode in the sky above the city. As the chemical weapon is dispersed into the air above New York, Bond begins to feel very strange. He looks up in amazement at the burning wreckage of the missile crashing into the sea like an enormous shooting star. The sparkling residue illuminates the entire skyline of the city for a brief second, then flickers and fades slowly into darkness.

‘Fabulous,’ Jamal whispers into the cool night air, ‘just fabulous.’