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I knelt by my bed as I heard the news.
They said eighteen dead at the Ariana Grande concert; now it’s 22. Including an eight year-old. A 16-year-old. Others still missing.
Terror - Attack - Britain - Terror - Attack
Another terror attack in Britain. A terror attack on our youngest girls, excited, thrilled, filled up by life after watching Ariana Grande perform.
Cut down by ball-bearings from a home-made bomb as they piled out into the street with their mums, their friends, their futures ahead of them.
Kind - Death - Savage - Attacks
The worst kind of death. The most savage of attacks.
I wanted to vomit. Crouching at the end of my bed, I wanted to be physically sick, knowing what this would mean for today.
Politicians - Hope
It would mean the eunuch politicians peddling their narrative that we will carry on as normal, that we stand united. Trying to find some hope to hang on to.
It would mean Andy Burnham, the new mayor of Greater Manchester, right there to tell us it would be business as usual in Manchester.
Business - BUSINESS - USUAL
I want to scream at him. Business as usual? BUSINESS AS USUAL?
Tell that to the mother of 16-year-old Georgina Callander. Someone slaughtered her most special thing, the tiny baby she carried, birthed, equipped with all the things she could protect her from the world with, smiling at her loveliness as she became a young woman.
And you say it is business as usual? The dead never get to carry on as normal.
This is not usual, Andy. This is not 'part and parcel' of city life, Sadiq.
Country - Forlorn - Broken
This country is not usual. It is absurd. Disgusting. Forlorn. Broken.
And we will have a full day of this, this standard response to terror. A narrative so drilled into the minds of the terrified that they cling on to it for fear of drowning in the horror. Like a bit of flotsam in the sea long after the...
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