The far-right BNP is having some success following the attacks, Paul Cullen finds on a visit to a key constituency.
The east London borough of Barking gave the right-wing British National Party its highest vote at the last general election, though you'd never anticipate such a result from a look around the local market area.
On a muggy Saturday afternoon, the stalls in the town centre and the shops behind them are manned by a rainbow mix of cultures - Africans selling fruit and vegetables, Asians with their arrays of cheap clothes, Chinese takeaway food.
It's a measure of the speed at which this traditionally English suburb has changed in the past decade, as newcomers moved in seeking relatively cheap housing.
While the market seems to present a peaceful view of London as an integrated multicultural society, you don't have to go far to find people who see things differently.
"At one time, this was British; now it's all immigrants. The market is all Singh and Patel," Frank, who came to London from Tyrone 60 years ago, tells me.
"It can only mean trouble." Amid the grumbles about "coloureds" and how "they weren't in the country six months before they were buying up everything", the terror attacks seem a distant concern to Frank and his English friend.
"I can't see them coming out here, the bombers. What would they want with us?" he says, cupping his pint of lager outside the Spotted Dog pub.
The BNP has tried to make political capital out of the London bombings, even using a picture of the bombed-out bus on one of its leaflets in a council election. Getting to "the roots of the problem" is the first step in finding a solution to "Islamic terror", it says, placing the blame firmly on "the failed multicultural experiment" and Tony Blair's war in Iraq.
It's a popular view among whites in Barking. "They're killing innocent people with their bombs, but so are we in Iraq," says Frank. His friend says: "Get out of Iraq, get out of the EU, stop the immigrants coming in, that's the answer."
In the pubs, pool-halls and petshops where whites gather, people complain about their new neighbours. One man tells me "you can't be British and Muslim". Another says recent immigrants should be "sent home".
In contrast to other areas, there is anger here at Blair as well as London's mayor, Ken Livingstone. "What does Blair mean by saying we should go on living life as normal?" one man asks.
"Maybe if he stepped out of his bulletproof limo more often or took the tube he might know what the rest of us feel."
Yet few think the BNP can make the breakthrough it covets; last time round it came third in this constituency with almost 17 per cent of the vote. "They haven't a hope," says John, who works in a tattoo shop.
Elsewhere in London, the city remains tense. South of the Thames, a man on the Clapham omnibus is nervous. "That's a fine rucksack, you have there," he says, just as I am pulling a personal stereo, its wires dangling freely, from the bag.
I try to reassure him, telling him where I come from, just as another speeding police car overtakes our number 88 bus. The sound of wailing sirens is a constant in London these days. So is the sound of strangers talking, if only to check out whether their neighbour has an appointment to meet his maker or is merely on the way to the shops.
"So you're Irish, then?" he responds, "last century's bombers. I suppose we coped with you, so we'll cope with this lot." Younger Londoners in this relatively affluent part of the city are less concerned about the terrorist threat.
On a Saturday evening, the bars are overflowing with drinkers beginning their night out. In contrast to Barking, social life is more integrated here, with mixed-race groups and couples plentiful.
"Life is short, but it goes on," Javid, in his 20s, sums up. "Weren't there parties on the Titanic, too?" his white friend, Rob, asks.
Yet, in their individual ways Londoners are taking modest precautions: travelling on the bus rather than the tube, if possible, or sitting downstairs on the bus rather than upstairs (the two bus bombers sat upstairs).
On Clapham High Street, Apex Cycles is staying open later than normal, and doing a roaring trade. "It's like Christmas," the manager tells me, "everyone wants to get on the road and off public transport."