I once saw him kill three men in a bar... with a pencil, with a fucking pencil.

Britain thinks a weapons ban will stop violent stabbings, they passed idiotic legislation to prove this but they were wrong. Human nature opposes all, people will stab other people with anything so taking away the sharp pointy things won't stop this. People don't need restrictions, people need guidance. Guidance offers understanding and understanding offers choice. When offered a choice to either be right or be happy I choose to be right. I understand what that decision brings and I stand by it Steadfast. So I decided to write a short children's story called; Where does mum keep the kitchen knives?
You can illustrate it yourself:

Sam arrives home to a flat in Kent.
Mun and dad shout about paying rent.
Mum says 'you're drunk again before 10 am.' Dad says 'what, what, what?'
Sam passes by as quiet as he can, he didn't want to watch his parents fight again.
Dad is shouting 'you're a useless wife,' there's a struggle in the kitchen as he reaches for a knife.
Mum is scared, she tries to stop him.
Dad screams 'Sam where is the fucking chef knife?'
Mum pushes him aside, dad reaches the cupboard in one stride.
Mum sceams 'help!'
Dad, now angry at his useless wife reaches in the cupboard to grab his zombie knife. He turns to swing by bumps his head on the side of the fridge instead. The tiny kitchen has no space when two adults stand face to face. Dad tries again to stab his wife but no such luck with a large zombie knife. The machete blade is bulky and wide with awkward sharp edges at odd angles each side. He lifts the blade up trying to chop but the hard thud above him signals his stop. Sam watched dad's face turn bright red as the zombie knife was stuck in the ceiling above his head. Mum saw her chance, life-saving essential, poking out dad's shirt pocket was his only work pencil. Mum pushed him back with a shove and a grab. 'Die you bastard,' she shouted then stab, stab, stab. Sam was sad when police arrived, he'd never mum or dad again, dead alive. But Sam doesn't live in that flat on his own. He's happy with friends living in his new foster home. Sam kept that pencil, it served him through school. He wrote his docrate with that scribing tool. Some years later, in his adult life Sam addressed a letter to the Prime Minister.

Dear Minister
It is in your power to regulate the rule of law that keep the order of governance civilised and respectable. Many have critisised, questioned, opposed and ignored your decisions passed for various reasons. Such reasons I have learned are from a want of understanding. I too questioned a decision you made which affected me as an impressionable youth. Your decision that came into law had zero impact on my personal well being as the law intended, in fact it produced ruinous results. Results that changed my life for the better. A ban on a weapon design allowed me an opportunity to pursue education. When zombie knives were banned the law didn't spare my parents from the downward spiral their lives were on, it spared me through tragedy from coming the next tragedy. The act of a violent crime committed could never have been prevented with a weapon ban; perhaps the statistical evaluation should have shifted focus from the action onto the ignorance, I am not the person to pass judgment. Instead I implore you to consider the facts better, evaluate the data to find a comprehensive solution rather than a short term fix. I begrudge neither my parents for their destructive living nor the government for passing laws they believe will benefit everyone, I simply ask for an expansion of perspective. In closing I have inserted personal responsibility and effort to assist in the betterment of the community from whence I came, Kent needs our help. I thank you for your ongoing service to our country and taking time from your busy timetable to read my letter. Sincerely. Sam.