So thanks then, terrorists. You’ve just succeeded in bringing the families of millions of Londoners that bit closer together, giving them an increased love of their city and an enhanced appreciation of their way of life. You might have destroyed the lives of several hundred people, but – and this is stating the bloody obvious you fuckwits – you’ve achieved nothing.

My train goes through Kings Cross and my office is less than half a mile from three of the bombs, and how did it affect me and thousands like me? I had a longer walk to the station on the way home; it was an otherwise beautiful evening and I needed the exercise anyway, so big deal. Oh, and I got a bit angry, a mood tempered by St Paul’s Cathedral, still a symbol of London’s resilience, gleaming proudly in the evening sun with a huge Make Poverty History banner wrapped around its dome.

Get it into your thick skulls that this kind of shit just doesn’t work. Never did and never will. Right now, my thoughts go out to those who’ve been more directly affected by this morning.

Damn straight. I’ve been reading clagnut for about 18 months now via Bloglines
yet I’d only had a vague idea that Richard was somewhere near Brighton, not that he might work in London and commute.

The controlled fury of the Londoners whose stories I’ve read fills me with admiration. They won’t lose sight of the really important stuff or be dissuaded by the actions of a few misguided extremist wackjobs.

They’ll just get on with it. As should all the rest of us.