Ian McSween, a black-belt kick-boxing champion who gave lessons in the subject to three of Tony Blair's children, stabbed Franklin to death when he found him with his girlfriend, Emma Parkinson.
Parkinson, who had been dating McSween for six months prior to Franklin's death, had told him that she was too tired to see him when he phoned that evening. However, he took no notice and called in on her anyway. When he found her smoking dope with a previous boyfriend he went berserk and stabbed him. Franklin died before the ambulance arrived.
In court the computer-analysing martial artist claimed Franklin's death was a 'terrible accident.' As you would when you pull a knife out of out trousers and stick it in a bloke's neck.
Keith Wilson, the manager of the North London fitness club that employed McSween, said:
"I was happy to allocate McSween to teach them. If I had any concerns I would not allow him that responsibility."What do I think?
I think it's a good job McSween didn't ever catch a baby Blair sharing a joint with Ms Parkinson. Mind you, if he had, I reckon TB might well have used the ensuing tragedy as an opportunity to demonstrate his Christian compassion for the black bloke who had just topped his offspring.
Hate the black f***er? Nah, not Saint Anthony. Unctuous forgiveness, the welcoming of a teen-slaying sinner back into the New World Order's loving fold. Tearful magnanimity from the Chosen One, heartfelt emotion, service in St Paul's, all tenderly captured on celluloid for idiot posterity.
That'd be the NWO's favourite messiah.
You can count on it.
Mind you, when everyone had forgotten about the kiddie-killer and he thought no one was watching, our former Dear Leader would have had him blow-torched and boiled.
You can count on that too.
This is McSween: