What a difference it makes to learn that the terrorist who managed to cause such murderous and evil mayhem with just a hired car and a couple of kitchen knives was really a Man of Kent (or do I mean a Kentish Man?) called Adrian.
In other words, home-grown. The product of the errors and tensions and cultural alienations of our own society. Not a phenomenon we can blame on immigrant hordes.
I'm not sure I agree with my correspondent who is glad that Adrian ended up dead. If I were in Security, I would prefer to have such individuals alive and interrogable. Corpses are so often taciturn, even if water-boarded.
I've known a lot of chaps called Adrian, all of them ... as far as I can recall ... distinctly nice. I wonder what our Mr Farago thinks of Adrians in particular and of immigrants from Kent in general.
My ancestors on my Mother's side migrated from Kent to Essex.
And I have, several times, visited friends along the Hagley Road in Birmingham. I may well be on CCTV.
And my wife has just revealed to me that we have knives in our kitchen.
Should I give myself up?