For a decade, I've been told by those who think I'm "alarmist" that there's nothing to see here. The seven-year-old whose non-appearance at the teddy bears' picnic goes unremarked . . . the beleaguered National Health Service reeling under the costs of genetic disorders from cousin marriage but now providing free and discreet "hymen reconstruction" for Muslim daughters who got a little over-Westernized one night . . . the infidel women going veiled to avoid trouble in les banlieues . . . the rabbis wearing baseball caps on the streets of Berlin and Brussels . . .
One reason that there's "nothing to see" is the ever greater lengths
we go to to cover it, and ourselves, up. The veil descends, on all of