And There Was Ninja Moustache (Chapter 37)

    Yesterday afternoon, justice buried its head in the sand as London crime kingpin, Jimmy O’Shea, was released from prison. He had served just eight months of his eight-year sentence for money laundering and arson.

   Aside from his proven crimes, O’Shea (a.k.a. Biscuits) is also suspected of drug dealing, bribery, assault, robbery, match fixing, ivory trading and murder. Not a soul seems to doubt O’Shea’s guilt, yet there are remarkably few who will dare suggest anything negative about him publicly. For example, when earlier in the year seven crime family heads were murdered, every whisper had O’Shea pegged as the mastermind behind the killing spree. Indeed, many marvelled at his influence and cunning at being able to orchestrate such meticulous and gruesome kills from behind bars. But did any major newspaper report this? Did any journalist mention O’Shea’s name in connection with his obvious handiwork? No, not one.

    We all know what Jimmy O’Shea is capable of. If even a tenth of the rumours are true, he is perhaps the most wicked man in the country. Naturally we might fear him. But since when have good Englishmen and women allowed fear to rule them? Is it now English nature to kowtow to a villain? Something is terribly wrong, and I for one can no longer abide the stench.

    There should have been outrage at O’Shea’s crimes, protests in the streets over his pathetic sentencing, and heads rolling over his inexcusable parole from prison. But from every major news source in the country there was only silence—spineless, comfortable silence. Not one major newspaper this morning mentioned O’Shea’s release. And what of us? Are we any better? Where is the uproar? Oh yes, we love a scandal—we all gossiped when Mr Cassidy was asked to go on leave in the middle of term, everyone had an opinion on who was selling ecstasy pills to the grade twelves, and how fast the stories spread when it was revealed Tom Sinclair and Danielle Linkletter were having sex. But when we feel the slightest threat, our glorious free speech shrivels like a dead worm. Let the truth be told, we cry… so long as the truth-teller is anyone but me.

    Jimmy O’Shea is a murderer and should spend the rest of his natural life behind bars. Let it be known I said so. Until others—especially those journalists who love to consider themselves so brave—say likewise, I have grave fears for the future of our nation.

    —Opinion piece by Shae Phelps, editor of Westdale High School’s student newspaper, The Westdale Gazette. 23rd October 2006.

    Two weeks later Shae Phelps’s 1994 Toyota Corolla was car bombed; there was no one in the vehicle at the time.


One thought on “And There Was Ninja Moustache (Chapter 37)

Add yours

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: