Mail Columnist Urges All-Out Nuclear Strike On Japan

Welcome to Richard Littlejohn's mind

Caring Daily Mail chief bastard Richard Littlejohn today urged the West to strike Japan immediately with all the nukes at its disposal, claiming that there would never be a better opportunity to rid humanity once and for all of the most evil race of short, bespectacled sadists the world has ever known.

“A minute’s silence for the earthquake and tsunami victims? Dacre, load my pen with the extra-strength poison - I’m feeling the hate!” exploded the cabbies’ poster-boy for bigotry and spite. “Right, here goes: my wife’s grandfather, who is long dead, was tortured by sadistic little sons of heaven, who are also long dead, in the name of a brutal microzoology-crazed emperor who is also long dead. This, of course, grants me the automatic right to feel as much blind personal hatred for Japan and every single one of its hellish spawn as my grandfather-in-law would if he wasn’t dead – all the more so, in fact, as the little yellow murderers are all sitting pretty on the piles of hard-earned British cash you and I had to hand over just for a bloody television that works.”

“Or is that the chinks?” he mused. “Doesn’t matter. They’re all the bloody same. Where was I?”

This sort of devastation is much preferred by Mail readers

After pausing for his daily punching of an immigrant, the Mail’s top philosopher warmed to his theme: “What I say is this. While the nips are running round like headless chickens, dodging radiation leaks and picking their sacred ancestors out of the debris, we’ll never get a better opportunity to finish what we started in 1945. Let’s stop wasting perfectly good cruise missiles to protect a handful of wailing wogs, load up the nuclear warheads they were designed for and head off down to the South China Sea to show those little slitty rat-men just what a real nuclear holocaust looks like from the inside, in case they’ve forgotten.”

“I’m as sensitive as the next man, as long as the next man just got out of Pentonville and back into his minicab,” he seethed, as millions of readers who swear they only buy the Mail for the quality of its sport coverage feverishly stroked their prejudices to a frenzy. “But I draw the line at not launching enough ICBMs to make the earth’s crust to crack wide open and drag the entire subhuman yellow race back down to hell in a handcart.”

“And I will not cease from mental strife until Rumbelows returns to our high streets once more, its shelves filled with honest British tellies made by Rediffusion, Pye and English Electric whose buttons fall in when you press them,” he added patriotically.

Mr Littlejohn then went on to rant about EastEnders not accurately reflecting the multicultural reality of the East End of London which, in his mind, lies under a permanent pall of smoke from billions of poppies burned by a teeming horde of bomb-carrying al-Qaeda terrorists.