By Karen Fenessey
Having seen the film ‘Se7en’ (or you might recognise it as ‘Seven’) featuring Brad Pitt and the hauntingly talented Morgan Freeman at least ten times, I think it’s safe to say I know more than the average person about the skills needed to be a good sleuth.
Some might say “Oh, but Karen- this is just a silly Hollywood film that isn’t even real!” and to those people, I say “There’s no smoke without fire, buddy!” Thousands of gruesome crimes take place every day across the world, especially in places like Darfur where people aren’t educated to as high a standard as me, and it is these real life incidents which give film makers their crucial inspirations.
You’ll be pleased to learn, however, that I have not been involved in any terrible murders where people are forced to make harrowing choices about their noses! And, indeed, that I have never set foot near Darfur and frankly never would. But I have been putting my specialised brain to use in my local community in a bid to quash the threat of terrorism to British Citizens.
Now, it involves a certain ethnic family whose daughter is a member of my new class of P2s. As I said before, I am not a racist and am in fact one of the most tolerant and welcoming people you could hope to meet (notice how I referred to Morgan Freeman- an African American actor- as ‘hauntingly talented’. I don’t dish compliments like that out freely!) I have no problem with them being Islamic at all: I believe all people should be able to worship on whatever day of the week they choose. Sadly, however, I have amassed a significant body of evidence which points to some highly suspect activity.
I had asked all the children to prepare a project about their summer holiday. By the way, I must add that the level of artistic ability was disappointingly low (surely it can’t be that difficult to distinguish a dog from a horse- a horse has hooves for a start. How many more retarded scribblings must I see of young Lewis riding his Alsatian down Bournemouth beach?) and this is obviously because their previous teacher’s frequent trips to the oncologist have left those children bereft of any education at all.
But back to the point at hand: I also unveiled details of a rather disturbing trip taken by little Randa and her Sudanese family. Instead of doing the obvious thing and taking a flight, they used the sleazy service, Megabus, to enter the capital. This is a bizarre precaution in the days where budget flights can be bought for as little as a pound and leads me only to assume that they needed to enter London under cover and maybe don’t even have valid passports.
Randa proceeded to show me some of her holiday snaps, which were not so much snaps as a carefully planned reconnaissance mission of London’s top political institutions. Not one, not two, but SIX pictures of the door at 10 Downing Street- and none of them featured any members of Randa’s family. There were also several pictures of Buckingham Palace and the Houses of Parliament, again with no hint of family fun, just a cold and calculating mapping of potential targets. But the most compelling piece of evidence occurred when I asked Randa if she planned to return to London (a crafty line of enquiry disguised as an innocent interest in her life). Randa told me they planned to leave on the 16th of October.
“And when will you return?” I asked, my eyes flashing with detective zeal.
“Oh,” she said, “Daddy hasn’t booked return to Glasgow, only one way…”
If you are in any way as razor sharp as me, you will see only too clearly what a terrifying menace is lurking at my gate and probably yours as well.
