One thing that gives me hope for the War on Terror is that for every Mohamed Atta, al-Qaeda and its affiliates seem to have at least ten operatives like Richard Reid, who failed to blow up an airliner because he couldn't set fire to his shoe, and Kafeel Ahmed, who died on Thursday night after failing to blow up Glasgow airport in what was surely the clumsiest suicide attack ever attempted.
Like mischievious schoolboys setting off a whole packet of bangers in one go, Ahmed and his accomplice calculated that if they put a whole load of gas cylinders in a car, then poured lots of petrol over the car, and themselves, and ran around screaming then there would be a really big explosion. All those web pages where you can supposedly find out how to build a bomb, and that was the best they could do – and Ahmed apparently had a PhD in engineering.
I hope that during his month in hospital Ahmed experienced times when he was conscious and aware enough to know how miserably he'd failed. I hope that his nurses and police guards often leaned close to his ear and told him that he'd killed no-one, all his mates had been arrested and that he was loser who'd bought shame on jihadists the world over.
Here's what I want to know: if a successful suicide bomber gets 72 virgins when he gets to heaven, what does a total screw-up wannabe suicide bomber get? Personally I'd like to think that he gets ten minutes with a five-times married, fifty-something divorcee who's recently had her sixth child, and who, after an awkward and unsatisfying coupling, phones him 20 times a day for the rest of eternity to tell him "It's no big deal, it happens to lots of guys" and ask him why he doesn't want to see her again, while hundreds of small birds pick at his scabs.
Quite frankly he let Allah down, he let Anglia Polytechnic down, but most of all he let himself down.