‘They were jerking and twitching like chickens.’

Not my words. Words I came across years ago while researching eye-witness accounts for a postgraduate degree. Words I felt unable to include. Words which have been burned into my brain.

‘They were jerking and twitching like chickens.’

What, you ask, could ‘jerk’? What was it that ‘twitched’?

Why…. ‘like chickens’?

You demand context. You deserve context. For you may have stopped, you may have looked away. Your eyes may have wandered from those few words, may have wandered away from the words, to seek those familiar objects around you. Why have you stopped? Are you  afraid? Are you seeking relief? Or reassurance? Or escape? Do you really wish to continue?

Some of you may have passed over those words, in fearful dismissal. You may have stopped, as I did. Stopped, as in one of those childhood moments when I approached some unexpected terror,  moments of agony – just before the opening of a dark mental door. That door opening into a sudden depth of disbelief at the horrors of which humanity is capable.

What is down there crawling in that black icy depth? What could it be that was so terrible that it made the ‘grown-ups’ exchange swift but meaningful looks; and swiftly  diverting your bewildered childish horror?

‘They were jerking and twitching like chickens’.

God help me.

You demand context? The context is autumn, 1895, in Constantinople,  ‘Bulis’. Bulis is the familiar name which the Armenian people called that city. Similar to the Greek ‘polis’, the city.

‘They were jerking and twitching like chickens.’


Ah, says the mind, frantically seeking diversion from the darkness ahead. Ah yes, yes….

‘They were….’

But you nod rather quickly, eyes averted, and you hear your own voice, far off, mutter: ‘…yes, Armenian, an Indo-European language, developed alongside Greek……..’

‘…..like chickens!’

Like chickens?

Yes, on an autumn day, in Bulis, hordes of  ‘softas’, koranic students, came pouring out of the madrassas and mosques armed with metal-shod clubs provided by the Ottoman emperor. The butchers, and police, donned leather aprons to avoid staining themselves with kufar blood and took up their finely-honed slaughtering knives.

Screaming with bloodlust the Muslims, hundreds and hundreds of them spread out across the city in full view of everyone, including the European diplomats, the financial and technical European staff employed by the Ottomans. The Muslims grabbed any Armenian they could find and  then obeyed the instructions of the Koran as ‘written’ by Mahomet, as preached by the imams: ‘Kill them wherever you find them.’, ‘Strike them on the neck!’

Thousands of innocent Armenians were savagely clubbed to death in the streets, in full view of all;  rich Armenians as well as poor Armenians, women also, priests, businessmen, writers, ordinary Armenian folk. For they were all Christians, you see. Muslims are urged to kill Christians simply for not being Muslim. Its very simple. Its very clear. The most childish and ignorant mind can understand it. All non-Muslims can be killed, because Mahomet said so, indeed they MUST be killed. And he, the aforesaid Mahomet, was the most perfect man who ever lived. Fact, for thus it is stated in the Koran and in the hadith, see? Solid fact. How could those venerable men lie? The words of Allah!

The 1895 Constantinople slaughter was open, brutal, horrific. The Armenians had dared to protest against the massacres, rapes and robberies they had suffered. This protest could not be allowed. These kufar had to be taught a lesson.

One butcher, I call him butcher though he was a policeman, was more skilled than the loutish knout-wavers, those who beat out the brains of  every Armenian they found. He was more skilled, more accomplished. For, you see, many small Armenian children and babies, yes babies, were brought to him as he sat, knife in hand, clad in a leather apron.

And he seized them one by one, pulled them over his knees and slit their soft throats expertly, halal style. Halal style. Not chickens. Toddlers and babies. Then threw them aside, in a bleeding, twitching heap, to grab the next. As authorised by islam. Delicate and exact work. Blessed by the hovering, excited imams. As the little Christian children and babies bled to death, halal style, oh yes, halal style, they squirmed. They jerked. They twitched. Like chickens.

Can you ever eat chicken again, halal chicken, any chicken ?

‘They jerked and twitched like chickens,’ he said. He relished ‘their ensuing convulsions’. We know this because he was asked about it afterwards.  He described what he had done, relishing it, to Professor A. Moriz, a specialist in Ottoman studies.

His words.

Not mine.

He showed no remorse, no regret, no shame, no doubt. He relished his work. Work of note and credit, holy work, a form of prayer. Authorised by the imams, by Islam. By Mahomet. ‘The perfect man’.

‘They jerked and twitched like chickens’.

And recently, the yelling supporters of Diane Abbot and her dear ‘friend’ Comrade Corbyn, had the temerity to call me Islamophobic, a bigot? Racist scum they screamed as they kicked and punched me, for to the left, the modern Islam appeasers, I am racist scum for I openly oppose the death ideology they cringe before like slaves.

That day’s work in Bulis and in many previous massacres all over Armenia, was repeated with greater terminal fury in the Genocide of 1916 in which 2 million Armenians perished in many unspeakable ways. 200,000 Armenian women and girls were made sex slaves. The road to Deir-es-Zor was lined with scores of crosses on which twisted and twitched the naked bodies of Armenian women who had been raped before crucifixion, in mockery of their Christian faith.

This satanic behaviour was recorded in many European languages. The eyewitnesses of the hellish slaughter perpetrated by Islam included one young German officer who took photographs of this Genocide. Many photographs. I have seen them. They too are branded deep in my brain.

Have any of our ‘leaders’ bothered to read what always happens when Islam gains the upper hand over the kufar? It is happening now, now. Last year 90,000 Middle Eastern Christians were murdered. Most Iraqi Christians ‘have disappeared’. The killing continues as you read these words.

And now our own police escort Muslim rioters to attack peaceful working citizens in Oldham. Instead of arresting the violent ones they appear to side with them against the victims, women, frightened children, innocent folk. Today it happened, in Oldham. So I am forced to think again of  that day in 1895, ‘They were jerking and twitching like chickens’.

‘… jerking and twitching like chickens’.