Today, Martin McGuinness smiles, or perhaps smirks is a better word, as he awaits his turn to shake hands with the Queen and I hope he has the grace to wipe his hands on his trousers before doing so in order to ensure that none of the blood, brains and tissue from his countless victims - men, women and children - stain the Royal glove. 
I ask whether it was worth it for the simple reason that he and his gang of thugs lost their stupid unnecessary 'war', not just slightly, but totally. They could have, and would have, won virtually all that was eventually granted to them by the ego-mad Tony Blair if they had simply operated as a civil rights movement in similar vein to the blacks in America. In fact, they would have gained them even faster because mainland Britain would not have stood for 'Paisleyism' for very long. But no, suffused with all that 'Oirish' blarney with its myths and legends, McGuinness and his 'thickoes' reached for the gun and the bomb and bugger the consequences. So there you are, Martin, enjoy your little bit of pomp and circumstance today but, whilst I doubt you will ever remember all the names that go with the bodies, do try and remember one thing - you're still fucking British because you lost!
Humor Magazine
