Are you seeing a pattern in terrorists? Me too

Pockmarked misogynists with disgusting teeth

I have yet to see a single terrorist who doesn’t look like the creepy guy I turn down in the toaster aisle at Asda. What’s driving these pathetic teens?

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Frustrated: something they all have in common

The image of the latest departed fool flashes up on the BBC twitter page. I’m not surprised. Unlike the Mad-Max-On-Jihad aesthetic they aspire to, they just look like depressingly lonely teenage boys. And they are.

Lithe, virginal and bug eyed, you can tell they’ve spent 42 hours a week downloading niche manga porn and desperately trying to get Jasmyn in Year 11 to send nudes. To no avail. The hypocrisy of their dual hardcore brainwashed puritanism and sexual frustration would be laughable if it wasn’t so desperately sad. I can imagine their squeaky voices and those trousers that fall down because they insist that they are a medium. They have been bullied their entire lives for being creepy, weird, gullible and unsettling.

Women avoid him in the supermarket queue because he stares at their cleavage. Girls at school whisper about the pictures he drew of breasts in English. The sexual frustration and isolation has built to a crescendo aged 18 and the cool wahabi warriors with machine guns seem to give him that identity and power he craves.

And they know that.

They’ll find him on twitter, maybe Whatsapp. Or it was his slick cousin’s friend who introduced him to the gang. He liked being called akhi and the angry, bitter rants about western women and the kufr boys who were mean at school. It justified his misogyny, his hatred of girls who refused him, hated him. He had an identity now, friends, a gang. It wasn’t the Islam he was brough up on - Mosque on Fridays, Eid with Aunt Aisha’s sons- but hard, angry, absolute macho force. And like an action man playing dress up, he donned his thobe, held the machete and posed for pics. His mum had no idea, as he was careful to just look more religious. His brother didn’t like his new friends, he thought they were weird and scary. But now the sad teenage boy needed them, needed them to protect him from the crushing loneliness and self hate he faced alone.

When he kills himself at their demand, I wonder if he ever realised before he pulled out that knife or gun, or heard the final click of the bomb vest, that they had been using him. That to them, he was just another sad little boy to manipulate for their political agenda. That it was never about getting him martyrdom, glory and 72 virgins.

Just about the death of others.

Are you seeing a pattern? I am.

How many times does this have to happen?

Written by

24 year old with an awful lot to say about everything. Opinions entirely my own. Usually.

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