Hijab Invasion: The Day The Baklava Bit Back!

Now listen here, dear readers, there is an urgent matter that has shaken our beloved Great Britain down to its crumpet-crunching core. The Poker-faced Priti Patel can’t even straighten this one out with a sharp papadum! Forget about the bloody French fishing rights, Brexit backlog, or even the monster Boris Johnson hiding under your bed. We have a less talked about, but decidedly more – dare I say it – exotic problem. Behold the terror-inducing specter of the Hijab Invasion! Yes, you heard right, our quintessential English climate is at risk from an avalanche of foreign headscarves!

Attack of the Chatty Chaand Sitara Cups!

Be warned all you sherry-swirling, telly-loving patriots! Arabic tea, like a covert ISIS infiltrator, has seemingly infiltrated our genteel British tea-drinking culture. Oh, the horror! The dismay! What happened to the good old Tetley’s!

• Just yesterday, your humble correspondent spotted Mrs. Jones from Brighton, innocently sipping on her fragrant cardamom tea, transported no doubt from some distant Arabian wind-tossed desert or the ruthless, jagged peaks of K2. Oh, how the mighty have fallen!
• Then there’s young Harry from Lewes, already converted to the dark side, his rosy cheeks flushed not with good ol’ Amontillado, but the mercilessly spicy hands of – wait for it – a Chicken Jalfrezi. Heady with a bout of turmeric-induced madness, Harry now declares, “Coronation chicken’s a bit boring, innit?”

Whirling ‘Dervish’ Like Footloose and Fancy-Free!

Still sputtering in utter disbelief? We’re just getting started. You may remember the good ol’ country-lad shuffle or even John Travolta’s Fever, but twisting your tokhes in rhythm with the tabla, thunderous dhol, and ululating vocal acrobatics of a particularly festive Bollywood number is an entirely different, surgical-mask wearing kettle of fish!

• Do you remember Jo, our leggy, lager-lovers’ dancefloor darling? Well, now she’s shimmying to that Hindi head spinner ‘Jai Ho’! Bolsheviks in a biscuit tin, where will it end? Will we be swarmed by turban-sporting yeomen, playing cricket in Sherwanis?
• Then there’s Sarah, Sue, and Sally, once regulars at local jumble sales. These days, Sarah swaps scones for ‘samosas’, Sue sews ‘shalwar’ instead of shirts, and Sally’s ‘saris’ are all the rage at the summer fête!

From Etsy to Ehtesab: Hijab Hoopla or How to Hijack Englishness!

Let us now approach the formidable fortress of foreign fashion. To update an old proverb: ‘in the land of the blind, the Hijabi shall be queen.’ Now before anyone calls a race-relations officer from the big old city, remember this is just a light-hearted, farcically flamboyant flutter-punch from your local fear-mongering, panic-inducing, heart-attack-giving tabloid!

• Scour any British park or bustling high street, and unironically, the hijab is part of the landscape – a colourful symbol of cultural exchange, unity amid diversity, right? Err… sure, I suppose so… If we stretch our imaginations as far as the inferiority complex of Nigel Farage’s pint glass.
• But what’s especially controversial (or crafty) are these all-covering curtained contraptions doubling as Beekeeper suits. Does our sting-happy friend the wasp not deserve more respect! Now that’s something worth marching about.

So to all you banner-brandishing, sandwich Boarding School-obssesed, irony-starved individuals out there… ALERT THE QUEEN! Mobilize the Knights of the OBE (Order of the British Empire for our less acronym-snobby readers) for we’ve got ourselves a situation that a steaming pot of Earl Grey won’t settle.

Not to sound the death knell for the Empire quite yet, but by George, by John, by Paul, and even by bloody Ringo, brace yourselves for the hijab headway. At this rate, we’ll be trading our Union Jacks for Urdu by 2050, exchanging the lager for ‘lassi’, and our beloved Eastenders will be replaced with East Punjabenders!

Call to action: So, what are we waiting for, dear Britons? Let’s spark a revolution! Trade your iPhones for wind-up gramophones, your M&S dresses for corsets and crinolines, and your racism for good-old fashioned xenophobia.Now there’s some irony-filled food for thought!