On Wednesday I awoke to the horrible news that the man I had once invited for Tea at the House of Commons was now dead, another victim of Zionist Aggression. My dear friend Ismail Haniyeh was killed in Tehran, and I am Literally Shattered. (Side Note: Whomever sent me the so called “meme” of Mr. Haniyeh being hit by a “Love missile going straight to the heart” like some middling 1980’s power ballad, let me reiterate: That Is Not Funny.)  When the pundits offered temporary “Band Aid” Solutions to the Crisis in Palestine, what my friend Ismail offered were Solutions. Solutions that were in fact rather Final.

Yet Ismail’s breadth of knowledge and expertise never ceased to amaze me. I will never forget the time I invited him to our Islington Gardening Allotment’s “Compost for Palestine” Gala. Mr. Haniyeh showed an interest in our gardens that left me quite chuffed. In fact, he wandered the garden intently studying the rocks and the trees. He said that if you listened closely, they would speak to you. Now this is a message of Environmental Stewardship that many in Government would be wise to emulate. Yet for some reason, Ismail seemed adamant that we never plant any gharqad trees, an eccentric behavior that I simply took in stride.

I will miss our outings to watch football together, especially when we cheered whichever team was playing Tottenham that day.  He even taught us a traditional Palestinian Football Chant entitled “Khaybar Khaybar Ya Yahud.” It was quite catchy.

As much as I want to putter around the flat today and sulk, there is work to be done. Mr. Haniyeh would want us to be strong. He would also want us to send him money in increments smaller than 10,000 U.S. Dollars via those nice gentlemen at the Finsbury Park Mosque. Today I shall search for the proper wreath to send to Doha in honor of Mr. Haniyeh.

Goodbye Dear Friend.