The Man on the Clapham Omnishambles

Did you know the United Kingdom now leads the world in the number of acid attacks on people? Whereas we once gave humanity things like pop icons and penicillin, we now give them revolting and scary statistical facts like this! In 2017, the number peaked at 941 attacks before dropping steadily until 2022. However, last year they rose again by an astonishing 69%. As with other day-to-day pleasantries like child grooming and female genital mutilation, the chances of a person being permanently disfigured by a cup of the old hydrochloric can be traced back to the disastrous political experiment of stuffing large parts of this country with culturally immiscible aliens and backward nationalities. It’s a simple mathematical equation: If you want large-scale Third World practices, you bring in large numbers of folk from the Third World and then spend an inordinate amount of time telling them ‘how valued their own cultural proclivities are in the rich tapestry of contemporary British heterogeneity’ (or some such bollocks!).

So it was the case with Abdul Shokoor Ezedi. On the evening of January 31st, this monster attacked a woman and her children in Clapham, south London, leaving her scarred for life and the children requiring hospital treatment. Originally from Afghanistan (that renowned nexus of pre-Raphaelite art and post-Enlightenment philosophical discourse), Ezedi arrived in Britain on the underside of a lorry in 2016. His application for asylum was refused after settling in the Newcastle area. Not perturbed by this minor obstacle on the path to a life of permanent piss-taking at our expense, Ezedi carried out two lewd sexual acts in quick succession and was sentenced to a nine-week stint in prison and placed on the Sex Offenders Register. Here it’s worth mentioning that any country that gave a monkey’s toss about the safety and security of its citizens would have had this cretin back on a plane to the land of infant marriages and eating goats’ heads off of the floor by now. Not here, though. Not with the likes of Helena Kennedy, Alf Dubs, John Roberts and assorted dripping wet bishops sitting in the Lords, and a whole host of MPs in the Commons for which any amount of medieval dystopian practices are fine as long as they’re done in the name of multicultural Blighty.

If merely continuing to reside here after two failed asylum applications (yes, old Abdul was denied the right to remain again in 2020 after playing the ‘I’ve converted to Christianity’ card) wasn’t a bad enough stain on the already shambolic nature of Britain’s asylum and immigration laws, what happened after the Clapham attack is surely further evidence of British state failings. You have a Metropolitan Police force incapable of rooting out and making an arrest for a whole 10 days after the attack took place, despite Ezedi’s damaged face appearing on at least 4 CCTV cameras. It’s not as if the guy went to ground in Europe’s largest city in the aftermath of the attack. He was spotted walking in Blackfriars; riding a tube train from Clapham South to King’s Cross; another two tube trains from King’s Cross to Tower Hill; and then at various places across the City of London thereafter. What does it say about the London of today when a prime suspect with unusually severe and noteworthy facial injuries can just ride around on the city’s transit system and nobody bats an eyelid? Could you imagine such a scenario in any other city in this land? Southampton? Bristol? Stoke? Hull? Sunderland? No way! Police would have been alerted long before he reached his front door. Then again, no other UK city is packed to the rafters with 11 billion nationalities who all excel in the ability to be utterly self-consumed by their own little lives!

Having failed to arrest and detain Ezedi after 10 days, the media were then informed by Jon Savell, Commander of the Met (a police force with an impeccable record of incompetence) that he’d probably jumped from Chelsea Bridge into the Thames and drowned. They had absolutely no evidence of this, save for the fact he hadn’t been picked up on CCTV walking from the bridge. He could have jumped, swam to the bank and then gone to ground. Let’s face it, if he couldn’t be detected breezing around London with a face that looked a dead cert for a Joseph Merrick impersonation, he’s got little chance of ever being found if he had finally decided to go into hiding. Call me an old cynic (and I really hope I’m wrong), but to claim Ezedi is probably dead seems too much an excuse of convenience that a police force makes to avoid claims of professional shortcomings. It just seems a little bizarre that two other unrelated bodies have been found, but nothing of Ezedi himself. Those of a certain age will remember the murder of actor Peter Arne at his flat in Knightsbridge back in 1983. His murderer, Italian vagrant Giuseppe Perusi, committed suicide by subsequently jumping into the Thames at Putney, with his body pulled from the river just 4 days later near Wandsworth. If we are to believe the police line of enquiry, Ezedi has been in the Thames for 10 days, yet no body or piece of clothing have been recovered. Sorry, something just doesn’t fit in for me. As for the media, they’ve long since lost interest.

Everything about this man – his arrival on these shores, his crimes, his ability to live here, his ability to walk the streets unhindered, and his final disappearance – all radiate a powerful aura of inadequacy on the part of the British state, its law-enforcement agencies, its ecclesiastical bodies, and sections of its inhabitants. Even if the rest of us have been blessed by the advent of Ezedi’s demise, it still begs the question of how many more are out there? How many hundreds, or thousands, of others with the same capabilities are at large in our country because, when push comes to shove, those clamouring for their rights and residency entitlements care more about their plight than they do about their own people?

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