Burkatex Brides I
“Look at them,” he said, “Walking around here in their bloody burkas as if they own the place. It shouldn’t be allowed.”
I looked up from my pint to watch the three black-clothed individuals passing the window of the pub. “Erm…” I begin.
“I mean to say,” he continues, having only paused in his rant to down a mouthful of bitter, “why can’t they dress like normal people?”
“Erm, Jack…” I start.
“You don’t see us trying to force our religion down our neighbour’s throats….”
I remember being woken by Jehovah’s Witnesses, but know it’s a waste of time arguing.
Burkatex Brides II
A few minutes later, he nearly spits out his pint in disgust. “Look! More of them! Jesus H, they must have opened a mosque nearby!”
Crunching on my salt and vinegar crisps, I peer out of the window.
This time, the two pedestrians are male, bearded and wearing long brown robes. They are smiling and chatting amiable. A few people stop and stare at them as they walk down the street, but they pay no heed.
A few feet behind them is a young lady in metal bikini.
“They’re not muslims, Jack” I explain. “They’re going to the fantasy convention.”