Robin Scranton, an office manager from Orpington, Kent, today finally gave up his fear of being blown up by terrorists and ending up as a white-shrouded corpse on the nine-o'clock news. His decision comes after years of diligently following government advice to remain constantly vigilant against the rise of Al-Qaeda in Kentish dormitory towns.
"I realised they were never going to come for me," said Mr Scranton, a note of disappointment in his voice. "I realised they were never going to come for my wife, or for my kids, or for my friends. I've been lied to. The useless fuckers aren't even going to come for my boss. I feel cheated frankly."
"It's difficult to let go of the dream," he admitted later. "There's something very romantic about the idea you might be scattered to the four winds as scraps of bloody flesh by a bunch of monstrous religious nutjobs with hearts full of hatred and bile. It makes you feel important somehow."
But Mr Scranton says there are good sides to his decision too. "I'm less twitchy on the train to work," he says with a wry smile. "I just block out those announcements to look out for explosive luggage now. And now I think about it, I've been looking for a bomb on a train for nine years now and I have no bloody clue what one would look like. It's relaxing to no longer have to look everywhere for something I wouldn't recognise if it came up and pissed on my shoes."
Mr Scranton plans to devote the energy he has saved by no longer being scared of terrorists to the bedroom re-decoration his wife has been asking him to do for the last nine years.