they want you dead or alive so the terror will stop. Well I wouldn't
know about that I mean rock 'n' roll didn't stop when Elvis died on the
khazi it just got worse. Next thing you know there was Sonny & Cher and
Dexys Midnight Runners. I'll come to them later. My point is it's easier
to start these things than to finish them. I suppose you thought of that
There's a reward of 25 million dollars on your head but don't lose sleep
on my account Osama. I have no information leading to your arrest or
capture. I have no information full effing stop. I'm what you'd call an
infidel and my husband called working-class. There is a difference you
know. But just supposing I did clap eyes on you. Supposing I saw you
driving a Nissan Primera down towards Haggerston and grassed you to the
old bill. Well. I wouldn't know how to spend 25 million dollars. It's
not as if I've got anyone to spend it on since you blew up my husband
and my boy.
That's my whole point you see. I don't want 25 million dollars Osama I
just want you to give it a rest. AM I ALONE? I want to be the last
mother in the world who ever has to write you a letter like this. Who
ever has to write to you Osama about her dead boy..
Now about the writing. The last thing I wrote was N/A on an income
support form that wanted NAME OF SPOUSE OR PARTNER. So you see I'll do
my best but you'll have to bear with me because I'm not a big writer.
I'm going to write to you about the emptiness that was left when you
took my boy away. I'm going to write so you can look into my empty life
and see what a human boy really is from the shape of the hole he leaves
behind. I want you to feel that hole in your heart and stroke it with
your hands and cut your fingers on its sharp edges. I am a mother Osama
I just want you to love my son. What could be more natural?
I know you can love my boy Osama. The Sun says you are an EVIL MONSTER
but I don't believe in evil I know it takes 2 to tango. I know you're
vexed at the leaders of Western imperialism. Well I'll be writing to
As for you I know you'd stop the bombs in a second if I could make you
see my son with all your heart for just one moment. I know you would
stop making boy-shaped holes in the world. It would make you too sad. So
I will do my best with these words Osama. I suppose you can see they
don't come natural to me but I hope this letter reaches you anyway. I
hope it finds you before the Americans do otherwise I'm going to wish I
hadn't bothered aren't I?
Well Osama if I'm going to show you my boy I have to start with where he
lived and I still do. I live in London England which I agree with you is
a bad place in lots of ways but I was born here so what can you do?
London looks like a rich place from the outside but we are most of us
very poor here. I saw the video you made Osama where you said the West
was decadent. Maybe you meant the West End? We aren't all like that.
London is a smiling liar his front teeth are very nice but you can smell
his back teeth rotten and stinking.
My family was never rotten poor we were hard up there's a difference. We
were respectable we kept ourselves presentable but it was a struggle I
don't mind telling you. We were not the nice front teeth or the rotten
back teeth of London and there are millions of us just like that. The
middle classes put up web sites about us. If you're interested Osama
just put down that Kalashnikov for a second and look up chav pikey ned
or townie in Google. Like I say there are millions of us but now there's
a lot less than there were of course. I miss them so bad my husband and
my boy especially.
A Man Called Intrepid author dies aged 89(Dec 03 2013) William Stevenson, a journalist and author who drew on his close ties with intelligence sources to write two best-selling books in the 1970s, A Man Called...