Prominent Islamic Extremist Anjem Choudary Exposed As College Party Animal!

Anjem ChoudaryAnjem Choudary is a man of many talents. He’s a radical English Muslim cleric, a man who wants Britain to adopt Sharia law. He dismisses all allegations against ISIS, defends crucifixions, and acknowledges ISIS leader Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi (who’s your Dadi!) as “the caliph of all Muslims and the prince of believers.”

On January 7, Choudary appeared on Sean Hannity’s Fox program to give his opinions on the Charlie Hebdo massacre in Paris. It’s a nine-minute video, and for once, the most offensive part about a Hannity segment is not Sean Hannity. Maybe that’s why Sean has this former party animal (*alleged* wink wink) on.

Anywho, Choudary sent out a series of Tweets after twelve people were killed in Paris on Wednesday. Here are two:

If freedom of expression can be sacrificed for criminalising incitement & hatred, Why not for insulting the Prophet of Allah? 

Freedom of expression does not extend to insulting the Prophets of Allah, whatever your views on the events in Paris today! 

He also wrote a nice letter to…well, everyone, about how Muslims do not believe in the concept of freedom of expression. Mkay. He might want to ask some Muslims about that.

It turns out that a man who thinks people who get drunk should be whipped (no, not the fun way), and called alcohol the “root of all evil” could have been a real-life member of Animal House, at least according to published reports. Photos have surfaced that numerous sources say are of Choudary when he was in college. Photos of Choudary drinking. A lot of drinking. A photo of Choudary with what looks like a joint in his hand. Pot. Grass. Mary Jane. GANJA, baby. And a photo of Choudary, sitting at a table with another young man who is holding up a girly magazine. Boobs. Tatas. Bosoms. Tits. Dirty pillows.

Anjem ChoudaryAnjem Choudary 2

Anjem Choudary 3My goodness. Anjem Choudary, a radical cleric who says Islam is not a religion of peace, but one of “submission,” was allegedly a party animal in college. Who knows what he may have done? Imbibed? Smoked? Good grief, what if he danced? Or looked at women’s ankles? Although, if the girly magazine photo is legit, ankles were the least of it. He was cute, too, again, if the photos are authentic. Big brown eyes, disarming smile, thick hair. Rawr. He could have gone in a completely different direction, looking like that. Anjem Choudary could have been a movie star, or perhaps a male model. Maybe he tried that, and after being rejected by agents, talent scouts, and traveling carnivals, his anger and bitterness got the best of him. Rejection is a painful pill to swallow. Or smoke.

I wonder if James O’Keefe is on this yet? It’s gotcha journalism, except with Anjem Choudary, all O’Keefe would have to do is find him, wave one of those photos in Choudary’s face (pick the girly magazine, oh please do), and ask Choudary to comment.

I’d do it, but it’s too cold to leave my house. Besides, Jimmy could just ask one of his many, many conservative fans to front him money for a plane ticket, hotel, and whatever costume he wants to wear. I think that confrontation would go something like this:

Fade in. A London street corner at dusk. People walk briskly along the sidewalk, hurrying home from work. Traffic is tapering off, and in the distance, calliope music plays. A lone woman stands under a flickering streetlight. Harshly highlighted blonde hair adorns a face that has seen better decades. Her eyes squint against the wind, her shoulders hunch, as if she’s hiding from the world. She has big hands, weathered and dirty, and her large feet are squeezed into cheap pumps. She turns her head, first to the right, then the left, as if she’s looking for something. Or someone. Suddenly, she crouches to the ground, a Fox News tote bag clutched to her chest. A Bentley approaches, halogen headlights cutting through the purple twilight. “It’s him” the woman whispers into her wristwatch.

The expensive sedan slows, then stops. Engine idles almost silently as the minutes tick by. Our mysterious lady remains hidden, holding her breath. Her legs cramp, her back begins to twinge, but she is not moving. This is it. This is the story that will make her career, the one that everyone said could not be covered. Death threats, arrests, convictions, accusations of everything from lying to misleading video editing to rumors about a sheep-nothing would stop James O’Keefe from the truth. Or his version of it. Yes, that woman is James O’Keefe, a man so dedicated to his craft of something or other that he will dress up like Courtney Love, circa 1980 to get his man. Wait, that came out wrong.

A lone passenger steps from the luxury car, wingtips gleaming. O’Keefe prepares to spring, photo of a handsome, young man laughing into a camera while drinking clutched in his hand. Anjem Choudary, radical Muslim cleric, O’Keefe’s target, walks towards a pub advertising slam poetry and Ladies’ Night.


Anjem turns, his eyes widening.

“O’Keefe!” Anjem hisses, baring his white teeth.

“You’re mine, you bastard,” O’Keefe yells as he runs at Choudary, waving the photo over his head.

“INFIDEL!” Anjem Choudray lunges towards O’Keefe as O’Keefe tries unsuccessfully to tackle the radical cleric to the ground. The Bentley peels away from the fight; Choudary’s bodyguard is late for a mani-pedi. The two men wrestle on the filthy sidewalk, grunting and throwing weak punches. Suddenly, Choudary regains his footing, grabs O’Keefe by the scruff of the neck, and throws him into a dumpster. Panting slightly, Choudary brushes the London dirt from his robe, checks his shoes, and sighs. He pulls a silver flask out of a pocket, takes a deep sip of Jägermeister, and mutters something under his breath. He stands and enters the pub.

From the interior of the dumpster, we hear James O’Keefe quietly sobbing.

Fade out.

– Tip of the hat to Reddit, where the younger (*alleged* wink wink) version of Anjem Choudary is currently trending. He allegedly wants these pictures removed from the internet. You know what to do.

Erin Nanasi

Erin Nanasi is the creator of The Bachmann Diaries: Satirical Excerpts from Michele Bachmann's Fictional Diary. She hates writing about herself in the third person. Erin enjoys reading, writing, and spending time with family. And wombats. Come visit Erin on on Facebook. She also can be found on Twitter at @WriterENanasi.


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