It is outrageous that this man has spoken to some of history's most evil personalities - yet he refused to debate with my fellow Oxford student, Eylon Aslan-Levy, purely because of his nationality. As Galloway plans to visit other campuses across the UK, I hope to use this blog to inform my fellow students that Galloway should never be made welcome on any University campus.
Human rights have become toxic in Britain. There is no genuine public debate over the issue - debates are supposed to be two sided, and progressive forces have not yet found a successful response to calls to scrap the Human Rights Act and withdraw from the European Convention on Human Rights... However, research on public attitudes suggests that this is a debate that pro-human rights forces could win.
I have developed the same cynicism as most fully grown adults, yet this is underpinned by a general hatred of all human beings, particularly customers. I still work in customer service as I work my way through my studies, and I have come to learn that my first screaming idiot customer, isn't all that unusual.
Football is a team game won by moments of individual genius - where players can turn from hero to villain in one moment of madness, change the future of a club with one kick of a ball and drift into the injured footballers void that surrounds the game. So why, when without the enforcer of these rules who make all competitiveness authentic, does the man in black become a figure of hate?
I'm no fan of the Socialist Workers' Party, so I won't be losing much sleep over the fact that it is currently imploding under the weight of two sex scandals. But I do find it intriguing that this intellectually moribund organisation is having the final nail pounded into its coffin, not by the state or by the right, but by feminism.
Much unkind comment has been passed on George Galloway, MP for Bradford West. He is accused of being a "pimp for fascism", of operating an unregistered charity for personal gain, of sucking up to Saddam Hussein and, perhaps most damningly, of killing satire with a rusty crowbar and leaving it to rot in a ditch.