Conquering heroes
Taki
Just 555 short years ago last month, troops led by Mehmed II broke through the walls of the ancient Christian capital of Constantinople, ending a gallant defence by Constantine Paleologos, the last king of Byzantium. Just five even shorter days ago, a portly barrister and a ten-year-old almost pulled off the greatest cricket upset ever, but like Byzantium it was not to be. Ironically, I contributed to both gallant but losing causes: in spirit only in Constantinople; by fielding my arse off at the cricket. More about the portly barrister and the ten-year-old later.
As barbarians tend to do, Mehmed rode triumphantly into the city on a white horse. Soon, churches became mosques and Constantinople became Istanbul. This was Islam’s greatest victory ever. For nearly a millennium, Constantinople had been the foremost barrier to Islam’s sustained drive for world conquest. Mehmed did not stop there. He went on to conquer Greece — but not the Ionian islands because the Taki family came from there — Serbia and the Balkans south of the Danube and the Crimean Peninsula. His grandson and greatgrandson added Mecca and Medina, Iraq, North Africa and parts of Hungary.
Although I hate to admit it, conquest of other people is hardly an Islamic invention. The man we know as Genghis Khan believed it was his divine right to lead the Mongols to world domination. Genghis also loved his job. ‘Man’s highest joy is victory, to pursue his enemies, to deprive them of their possessions, to make their beloved weep, to ride on their horses, and to rape their wives and daughters.’ (Verbatim the speech Zac Goldsmith gave his team just before going in to bat against us last week.) A descendant of Genghis Khan, Hulagu, took Baghdad in 1258, executed the caliph and sacked one of the world’s most sophisticated cities at the time. Islamists will be glad to hear that Hulagu’s son, a real sonofabitch like his father, eventually embraced Islam. For centuries, the world worked on what Nietzsche called the will to power. Africa and the Americas were conquered by European Christians. Napoleon got the pope to crown him emperor, Stalin conquered in the name of a totalitarian ideology. But now it seems we Europeans have had enough. We wish to be nice guys, and, as everyone knows, nice guys finish last. Genghis Khan’s joy of conquering is a no-no. Political correctness has become the weapon Islamists use against us, and PC was invented by Fifth Columnists among us Westerners. The other side, needless to say, does not suffer such fools gladly. It cuts their heads off. A Muslim cleric, Yunis-AlAstal, preaches that Rome will become an advanced post for the Islamic conquests, which will spread through Europe in its entirety. Yunis might be a bit of an optimist, but we in the West are doing our best to make his dreams come true. There were Fifth Columnists within Constantinople when it fell, as there were in the Paris government when Guderian’s tanks wiped the floor with a proud French army which had acquitted itself so well just 20 years previously. The point I am trying to make is that the Fifth Columnists among us in the West are the ones who will facilitate the Islamists in gaining their dream. They are the politicians and civil servants who deny us free speech and have opened Europe’s borders to the hordes without a fight.
The great Enoch Powell’s career was ended by the rottenest Fifth Columnist ever, Ted Heath. Jimmy Goldsmith was attacked nonstop by cowardly hacks for offering Britain a choice — a referendum. The EU simply will not listen to the people, so why are we still in the EU? The good people of Ireland seem to have got the message, however, which means there is always hope. Which was the only thing going for the Hanbury team up against the mighty Goldsmith machine, one which even Genghis Khan would shy away from facing. Let me explain.
The annual Tim Hanbury–Zac Goldsmith cricket match is, as far as I’m concerned, the weekend to be in England for. We play in Tim’s field at Wembury House, near Plymouth, in deepest Devon, against Zac’s posse of semi-professionals led by the great Zac himself. Tim Hanbury does not play, so this year, with his team being the greatest underdogs ever, he appointed a portly barrister, Patrick Lawrence, as captain, as brilliant a choice as Heinz Guderian back in May of 1940. The portly barrister not only confused the Goldsmith bullies by constantly switching everyone around and not even making a batting order, he also removed Harry Worcester, a good batsman but as lazy a fielder as anyone can be who is still living, replacing him with Orlando Fraser, as eager to win as he was to defend me against that bum Mohamed Fayed. Then came the portly one’s brilliant stroke. He had a tenyear-old, Henry Lopes, bowl the last three in the Goldsmith batting order. And Henry came through with — believe it or not — a hat trick. We came up five runs short but it was a moral victory against a side which could easily beat England. Even worse, the Hanbury household had 22 people staying, 14 of them beautiful — and I mean beautiful — girls. How is a man expected to play cricket when he’s up two nights in a row until 6 a.m. begging?
But if a weak side like ours, led by a genius portly barrister and a ten-year-old boy, can come so close to beating the great Goldsmith cricket machine, why can’t Europe stand up to the Islamist bullies?
Previous page
