Ridin' the rails to Malmo

First, Mark Steyn risks his life speaking in Copenhagen;

where he details his own, very real, ordeals with the anti-free speech policemen of Canada. Speaking truth to power, if he weren't a conservative.

Then he takes a trip on a train, and thinks some more about Abdul;

...unlike the bad old days of Nazi-occupied Denmark and neutral Sweden that "some" are comparing it to, there are no border controls whatsoever between Copenhagen and Malmö. You just hop on a train at the aforementioned Central Station in Copenhagen and hop off a half-hour or so later on the other end of the impressive Øresund Bridge at the Central Station in Malmö. I did it myself the other day, and was looking forward to sitting back and enjoying the peace and quiet of Scandinavian First Class. But, just as I took my seat and settled in, a gaggle of Abdul's fellow "refugees" swarmed in, young bearded men and a smaller number of covered women, the lads shooing away those first-class ticket-holders not as nimble in securing their seats as I. The conductor gave a shrug, the great universal shorthand for there's-nothing-I-can-do.

What Abdul made of being shanghaied by some high-class Nordic totty to serve as her cabin mate on a stomach-churching voyage of moral exhibitionism, I cannot say. But, from personal observation, the "refugees" around me seemed to take it for granted that asylum in Europe should come with complimentary first-class travel (see picture at top right, from a German train).

There were more shrugs at Malmö, when I asked a station official about it. He told me that, on the train from Stockholm the other day, a group of "refugees" had looted the café car. The staff were too frightened to resist. "Everyone wants a quiet life," he offered by way of explanation.

That's looking unlikely.