Fans of Ghastly Galloway Cheer

Despite efforts to keep him out, George Galloway has arrived in Canuckistan, and will get to deliver his bellicose "anti-war" speech in the flesh in Toronto after all. No suprise that delighted Galloway "anti-war" fans are rushing to the scene even as we speak, reports the Montreal Gazette:

"I am really happy he won his case and made it to Canada," said Abdullah Alnajjar, an engineering student at the University of Western Ontario, who drove from London, Ont., to see Galloway. "I'm here to support anyone who supports stopping any kind of war. ... George has been very brave in doing that."

Any kind of war Abdullah? Even, say, the war to "liberate" "Palestine" from the curséd Zionists? Now, why do I find that so hard to believe?

Update: The last time Georgie tried--and failed--to gain entry (he was slated to speak at one of the town's squishiest churches but had to settle for being beamed in via closed circuit TV) I was inspired to revise a droll Noel Coward ditty:

Don’t bring your blarney to the church, Mr. Galloway,
Don’t bring your blarney to the church.
We've had plenty of it already on the Ceeb and in the Star.
Not to mention the fuss
About Hamas
And Mr. and Missus Arar.
There are loud louts who aren’t afraid to slam the Jews
Because it seems they still refuse to leave their Zion perch.
I opine, Mr. Galloway, malign Mr. Galloway,
Don’t bring your blarney to the church.

Don’t bring your blarney to the church, Mr. Galloway,
Don’t bring your blarney to the church.
You’re a bit of a pudgy fascist, of that there is little doubt.
And a view of your bum in that bright red condom
Is a sight we could do without.
It’s a shrill voice, bombastic and quite demagogic,
Sounding like a rutting hog who’s been left in the lurch.
Spare our ears, Mr. Galloway, we're kafirs, Mr. Galloway.
Don’t bring your blarney to the church.

Don’t bring your blarney to the church, Mr. Galloway,
Don’t bring your blarney to the church.
Though they adore you down in Gaza
And Hezbollah thinks you’re swell,
The fact of it is we’re tired of your fizz
And prefer if you'd go to Hell.
You have big fans--Jack Layton and his missus, Chow,
But even so we must avow you really are the worst.
That's a wrap, Mr. Galloway. Crap, Mr. Galloway.
Don’t bring your blarney to the church!