Imagine the buzz this week among the members of Palestine Action. This group of disparate individuals suddenly went from frappuccino-sipping chatterati to official terrorists.
Their golden moment came on Monday, when Yvette Cooper, Secretary of State for the Home Department, announced: “I have decided to proscribe Palestine Action under section 3 of the Terrorism Act 2000.” Since then, the police have taken decisive action, and four members of the group have been arrested under section 41 of the Act.
The WhatsApp groups must have gone berserk. Having come to public attention the previous week by breaking into RAF Brize Norton and spray-painting some military planes (more an abysmal failure of security than cunning planning), they were designated the new Public Enemy Number One.
“Gosh, chaps,” one member might have messaged the group from the comfort of their drawing room sofa, “this is rather exciting.” Indeed, one member of Palestine Action said this week that they were “all flummoxed at the moment” – which is just the sort of middle-class thing most terrorists don’t say to one another.
There is a decidedly farcical ring to it all. Palestine Action’s UK followers clad themselves – around the neck or head and face, niqab-style – in the familiar fishnet-patterned keffiyeh of Palestine, and call one another “comrade”.
Yet this is more Sacha Baron Cohen-style Ealing comedy than feared militant group. While the “comrades” were celebrating their designation as modern-day Che Guevaras, journalists were infiltrating their meetings – or, no disrespect to The Telegraph sleuths, simply logging on to their Zoom webinars.
There, a plummy-voiced young woman talked through a nicely designed slideshow suggesting other RAF bases to raid with their spray paint canisters and offered advice about what to do when arrested – I think she meant to say “captured”. “NOTE,” read one slide in big capital letters, “Everybody (even a millionaire) gets free legal advice in the police station.”
Imagine the buzz this week among the members of Palestine Action. This group of disparate individuals suddenly went from frappuccino-sipping chatterati to official terrorists.
Their golden moment came on Monday, when Yvette Cooper, Secretary of State for the Home Department, announced: “I have decided to proscribe Palestine Action under section 3 of the Terrorism Act 2000.” Since then, the police have taken decisive action, and four members of the group have been arrested under section 41 of the Act.
The WhatsApp groups must have gone berserk. Having come to public attention the previous week by breaking into RAF Brize Norton and spray-painting some military planes (more an abysmal failure of security than cunning planning), they were designated the new Public Enemy Number One.
“Gosh, chaps,” one member might have messaged the group from the comfort of their drawing room sofa, “this is rather exciting.” Indeed, one member of Palestine Action said this week that they were “all flummoxed at the moment” – which is just the sort of middle-class thing most terrorists don’t say to one another.
There is a decidedly farcical ring to it all. Palestine Action’s UK followers clad themselves – around the neck or head and face, niqab-style – in the familiar fishnet-patterned keffiyeh of Palestine, and call one another “comrade”.
Yet this is more Sacha Baron Cohen-style Ealing comedy than feared militant group. While the “comrades” were celebrating their designation as modern-day Che Guevaras, journalists were infiltrating their meetings – or, no disrespect to The Telegraph sleuths, simply logging on to their Zoom webinars.
There, a plummy-voiced young woman talked through a nicely designed slideshow suggesting other RAF bases to raid with their spray paint canisters and offered advice about what to do when arrested – I think she meant to say “captured”. “NOTE,” read one slide in big capital letters, “Everybody (even a millionaire) gets free legal advice in the police station.”