In days of old when knights were clean bowled by fair maidens

The evil spectre of one Mr Solomon Rushton - aka Salman Rusdhie, aka The Devil Incarnate, aka Sir Suleiman the Magniloquent - once again raises its ugly head above the foetid mire that envelops our (sovereign) state of consciousness. We inhabitants (and non) of our fair land of the puritanical, frustrated by our collective insignificance in a World Gone Wrong ("I told you baby... I would have to kill you dead"), have a new old-chestnut to roast over an open fire. On the whole, though, I'd rather be toasting pink marshmallows by the mellow-yellow heat of a Dubai summer noon.

Good ol' Ardeshir C, bless his munificent heart, made a suggestion the other day which I for one wholeheartedly endorse: let our blessed son-of-a-late-cmla charter a flight to points west and personally declare war on the decadent enemies of Islam (thereby, no doubt, securing himself unlimited access to all seven levels of Valhalla and beyond). Well, we all know how expensive air travel is these days, so I hereby take the initiative of establishing a fund (fundo) (funda) to pay for said voyage. And this is the donation that will kick-start the fund... a whole two bits worth.

Contributions to the Send Glorious Minister for Religiose [sic] Affairs to Hell Heaven Fund may be mailed to Eulak House, 1 Bhangi Para, (Giving) Islam A Bad (Name)