The end. Until next time

And then, amid gunshots, explosions and smoke, it was all over. The terrorist attack on France, or more to the point free speech in France, has ended, for now.

I watched the scenes unfold on the BBC. I have heard the sounds of gunfire before, albeit not fired in anger, and the noise is deafening. The smell of cordite in the air lingers and if I try hard enough, I can almost smell it today.

There will be investigations and inquiries now, to pin the blame on someone. If there is anyone to blame, it is the terrorist murderers, starting with the Kouachi brothers, who tried to kill free speech, to kill ideas, in the name of islamic fascism. To murder, in cold blood, journalists and people who draw cartoons because they were offended. Someone said to me yesterday, “What if someone did a horrible cartoon of your mother, or said something terrible about her? How would you feel?” I replied that this was a most unlikely scenario, not least because she died in 1999, but even if she hadn’t, what were the odds of it happening? To preserve a meaningless, hypothetical discussion, I suppose I might not have been too impressed, certainly if that person knew her, but if he didn’t, then so what? It was a ludicrous comparison, not least because I know for a fact that my mother did actually exist as a real person and not as someone supernatural being, dreamed up thousands of years ago by ignorant and illiterate nomads.

What a waste of life too. A life ended in bloody chaos, at the hands of French Special Forces, their great achievement to have committed the barbaric slaughter of the innocent. And to be regarded with utter contempt by everyone on the planet, save the mad men – it is usually men – following a hideous version of a work of fiction.

I wonder if these men really had a thought about what their God was thinking. Would he be impressed by their killings and be busy setting up paradise with 75 virgins (always women, presumably dressed in burkhas) for their imminent arrival, rolling out the barrel, so to speak? What a terrible shame they were blown to bits before they ascended above the clouds, past the planets and later various billion stars and galaxies to a place no one knows exists.

It has gripped me, for sure. I have followed the media coverage with a mixture of distress, shock and disillusionment. Not 40 years ago, you could travel just about anywhere in the middle east in relative safety. I remember reading Simon Hughes’ cricket books and there were occasions when he was in Pakistan he wandered off during the evening, in the big cities, to find local restaurants in which to eat. I remember when westerners lived openly in Baghdad and Riyadh and provided they adopted the impositions of the countries concerned they were safe, even welcome. Now cricket teams are attacked in Pakistan, foreigners murdered in much of the middle east and now the whole rotten thing is coming over here.

Now, more than ever, we need to live in a secular country. No more faith schools (of ANY faith), no more failed experiments in multiculturalism, no more ghettos, no more division. By all means practice religion in your church, synagogue, temple, mosque etc and live that way if you want but it must never affect the way we live in Britain. That’s a big ask and it’s a big change and not everyone will like it but the alternative is to give up, like Prince Charles and a former Archbishop of Canterbury, and allow some religious groups to live by their own laws.

I fear that nothing will change. Once the politicians have stopped posing for photos, the funerals have taken place and the inquiries have ended, we’ll just carry on as before, except that the next incident will probably be even worse.

It’s your choice. What’s it to be?