The Plump, Pink Hand of Friendship

Britain's Head Boy has been trying to rah-rah the wogs into voting his chum Zac Goldsmith into the mayor's office, and has been met with more or less black ingratitude. Like Goldsmith in his own recent letter to London's dusky-faced bead and trinket lovers, the Head Boy had a bit of a burble about how much he liked India and Narendra Modi, thereby reaching out charitably to the homogenous bloc of woggery that is the London's Indian community, while making due allowance for its second-order Britishness. The Head Boy, or whatever minion of Lord Crosby of Deadcat tossed off the letter for him, also made the natural assumption that everyone in London with the name Patel is a Hindoo from exotic Gujarat; much as everyone surnamed Cameron wears tartan, eats porridge brewed with whisky and can be befriended with the salutation "Hoots Mon". At least one woman reacted rather touchily, being of Jewish descent and having gained the surname by marrying into a family of lapsed Muslims, presumably as a result of being kidnapped in her youth by tribesmen with beards. Nevertheless, it remains true that Sadiq Khan is a divisive figure, by virtue of the possibility that he may induce his fellow non-whites to vote for himself instead of for Zac Goldsmith, against all the uses and customs of democracy.