It's quiet now. Like the quiet of night time when you tiptoe downstairs and a soft blanket has been placed gently over the world.

All you can hear are the hopeless sobs of those exhausted by crying, and the prayers of mothers of a hundred children yet to die.

They will be begging, pleading, promising anything to a god they never believed in until this critical moment. They will do anything if he can just save their sister, their brother, their daughter, their son.

The killers who struck in Paris last night didn't want 127 ordinary lives. They wanted the young. It is a horror story ghoulishly apt for Friday 13th

Please, please. If you are out there, take my life—spare theirs.

Because this is the fear of every parent, isn't it? That you should live to see your child die. Every day we remind them to be careful how they cross the road and never speak to strangers, lest the natural order of life be disrupted.

And the killers knew all this. They didn't want 127 ordinary lives. They wanted the young.

Make a nation believe each time they see their child could be their last and you cripple an entire people. It is a horror story ghoulishly apt for Friday 13th.

President Hollande has vowed to wage a merciless war against terrorists.

If I were kneeling beside my dead child, I wouldn't want a war. I wouldn't want any more fighting, any more death, any more of this senseless world we are supposed to find reason to live in.

Paris today is an almighty beast in pain. Six sites of massacre. One-hundred-and-twenty-seven youngsters dead, 100 or more in a critical condition, balancing on the high wire strung between heaven and earth, teetering on the edge of life or death

Jeremy Corbyn says this is an attack on the vibrant multicultural cities we all know and love. No, Jeremy, it isn't. It isn't. You stupid man. It's an attack on France, on French sensibilities and the French way of life. Mostly, it's an attack on parents and children

I would happily walk naked into the line of fire just to feel the relief of my life ebbing away.

And that is Paris today. An almighty beast in pain.

Six sites of massacre. One-hundred-and-twenty-seven young people dead, 100 or more in a critical condition, balancing on the high wire strung between heaven and earth, teetering on the edge of life or death.

Everything has stopped. Cars, phones, hope, hearts.

There is no more. C'est fini.

And even as mothers close the eyes of their dead children, we open our borders.

We have allowed devils to sneak through our front door.

People in France have been sharing pictures of their missing loved ones on Twitter as they wait for news

Many friends and family members have also been sharing photographs of those missing after last night's attacks on a Facebook page, Recherche Paris

Inadequate passport checks, no holding centres—all to appease a multicultural ideal sold to us by certain elements of our state and its agencies.

Jeremy Corbyn says this is an attack on the vibrant multicultural cities we all know and love.

No, Jeremy, it isn't. It isn't. You stupid man. It's an attack on France, on French sensibilities and the French way of life. Mostly, it's an attack on parents and children.

Don't use this attack to defend multiculturalism. We don't all love multiculturalism. We don't all want equality the way you see it. We don't want to live where we are second-class citizens in our own country.

And I blame you. I blame you and every other zealot who tells me race is not an issue. I blame you who tell me all migrants are welcome. I blame you who tell me I am a racist when all I am is proud of my people.

For now it's time to put our arms around the people of France, to blow softly on their wounds to try and stop the sting, and to wait quietly in the room next door with tissues and cups of tea

President Hollande (pictured today) has vowed to wage a merciless war against terrorists

I blame the court who let Rebekah Dawson wear a niqab in court to protect her 'freedom of religious expression'. I blame teacher Asif Khan who allegedly led anti-Christmas chanting in a Birmingham school. I blame Sir Bernard Hogan-Howe for apologising to the father of an idiotic child who ran away to join ISIS due to the father's extremist past.

I am pointing the finger of blame squarely at the BBC who told us, 'Few Muslims have sympathy with the Charlie Hebdo massacres.' Actually the figure was 27%. More than a quarter sympathised with the motives behind the massacre.

I'd like to ask these fools, do you sympathise with the killers now that close to 200 are dead or dying?

When we live in a country where a seriously significant number of British Muslims think a massacre was okay, how far away are we from our own day of reckoning? How far away are we from our own Friday 13th, a horror of our own making?

The answer is: not very far.

For now it's time to put our arms around the people of France, to blow softly on their wounds to try and stop the sting, and to wait quietly in the room next door with tissues and cups of tea.

After that we face a choice.

We can sit and wait for the fear to come to us. Or we can remember who we are and what we value, and start defending it.

We have spent far too long tiptoeing around the cultures of those who choose to join us, instead of protecting the culture they have chosen to join.

This must change. We need to stand side by side with France.

As hours turn into days, the mothers kneeling at their dead child's grave will come to see Hollande is right.