So I was totally wrong that Tareq wasn't going to call me. He was on the phone first thing - all I said was "Tareq! How are you?" before he totally did one on me.

He read this blog. All of it. And he thinks I hate him.

Actually it's worse than that. He thinks I've dissed him big time - made him look like an radical crazy, a dog, a criminal, a bad Muslim, totally wacked, and a total psycho. He reckons I’ve got a vendetta against him because he's like a purer, better Muslim than I am. He reckons I'm some up himself twat because I had the chance to go and live in an Islamic country and turned it down. He reckons I totally envy him because he's all better-looking and cleverer than I am, and can pull a woman (though how that works with being a better Muslim I'm not sure). He reckons I've made him like this big loser joke and the world’s laughing at him cos of what I've written. And then he’s all like how I should go to his meeting next week because I'd learn a lot, but he knows I won't because I'm "too British".

So now he’s all like how our friendship never really existed and it’s totally over anyway.

I didn't say anything. I didn't get a chance. It wasn't much of a two-way - more him doing a rant with me going "But..." and him totally ignoring it.

He also warned me off mentioning him in this blog, so I'll have to find something else to write about.

But I may not be blogging him up any more but that doesn't stop me worrying about him.