Shalom and welcome to Israel!
Contrary to your likely first impressions, following your arrival on our festival of Purim, we don’t always go around in disguises and fancy dress.
But, assuming that Mossad agents really were behind the assassination of Mahmoud al-Mabhouh in Dubai, can Britain truly be surprised that they were using assumed identities? Would it rather have expected them to be strutting around the 5-star hotel in shirts unbuttoned to their navels, stars of David bouncing off their bear-like chests, spitting garinim (sunflower seeds) onto the marble floors, while yelling into their mobile phones?
Whilst your 007 may get off on introducing his real self to villains and totty alike, our intelligence services consider such a carefree approach to be somewhat reckless in the perilous world of international espionage. Anyway, “The name’s Rosenblatt . . . Elchanan Rosenblatt” doesn’t quite have the same ring to it.
If those On Her Majesty’s Secret Service are embarking on dangerous missions without disguise, perhaps even carrying their library and Blockbuster cards from Blighty in their pockets, now may be as good a time as any for a rethink. And, while I am on the subject, might I also humbly suggest that Britain review its immigration policy, welfare system, and the application of its hate laws in mosques throughout the UK.
You see, I am not entirely convinced that Mr. al-Mabhouh was the all-round top bloke that Britain appears to think. In fact, I salute every one of the Mossad agents involved in ridding the world of the filth, and have maximum respect and no little envy for the lucky, lucky bastard who had the honour of suffocating the c*nt with his own fetid pillow.
Oh, that it had been me! After administering the muscle relaxant (allegedly found in al-Mabhouh’s blood), I would have given this modern-day Haman a small taste of the misery that he was pivotal in inflicting on so many thousands of innocent Israelis. My fantasy (and it is just that – in the IDF, I was scared of a couple of the Kavkazis in my own unit!) involves al-Mabhouh’s fingernails, a rusty pair of pliers, his Jihadi testicles, and a high voltage set of electrodes.
Finally, before sending him off to meet all those lucky virgins, I would, Tarantino-style, have recited a few peaceful verses from the Koran – demonstrating to him, in his last moments, how he could instead have chosen to be a good Muslim – and then treated him to a heartfelt rendition of Hatikva (Israel’s national anthem).
Although it is our pleasure having you here, I believe that you have come to the wrong address. Your questions should rather be directed to the authorities in Dubai, who knowingly hosted a murdering scumbag. To Iran, which had been supplying him and his Hamas masters with their weapons. And to Syria and the other Arab regimes in cahoots with Tehran.
You might not consider it cricket, but neither is life under a barrage of missiles. So, far from apologising, Israel will continue to do its duty – both for itself and for the civilised world – by sending the al-Mabhouhs of this planet on their 5-star journey to Hell.
Enjoy your stay.
PS What do you make of our totty? It’s tops, intit?!