Reza Pankhurst's latest work doesn't have the poetic endurance of Shakespeare but its central premise is concerned with the dilemma so eloquently posed by the master playwright in Hamlet. The tragedy of the Danish prince that has endured as a fictional masterpiece of English drama has played out in the Muslim conscious for nigh on a hundred years.
This group who claims to be speaking for all Muslims, truly isn't. They don't speak for me. And I have given them no right to represent me, I have given no approval, in the actions of what they're doing. None of what they do, is complacent to the rules of Islam, none of what they do, signifies Islam in any way. In short - THEY. ARE. NOT. MUSLIMS.
Personal experiences of hipsters are a far cry from Williamsburg, New York but instead it was like watching pockets of East London being swallowed up by a swarm of skinny jean wearing, flat white drinking locusts. As preened men were dubbed "Metrosexuals" and "scallies" evolved into "Chavs"; in my circle "Indie" became "Hipster".