We had always given sanctuary to those who needed it, she said, only now we would kick them out as soon as possible
S
habana Mahmood was in a determined frame of mind. It was time to get serious. No more Mr Nice Guy stuff when dealing with illegal immigrants. Not that there was anything like a legal immigrant as far as she was concerned. The only good migrant was a deported migrant. She laced up her Dr Martens. It was Kicking A Door In o’clock. Starting with her own.
Shabana Mahmood had been dozing in bed when Shabana Mahmood had burst into her room and pulled back the duvet. Shabana forced her eyes open, trying to make sense of this unexpected intrusion. She reached for her phone. Where was her security detail? Surely this must be a mistake.
“Right,” said Shabana. “Get yourself dressed in this orange jump-suit. And don’t mess about. You’re due at the processing centre within the hour. You’ll be on a plane home by the end of the day. If you can call where you’re going home.”
