In a stunning display of diplomatic maturity that has left cynics everywhere reaching for their smelling salts, the White House has confirmed that the United States and Iran have agreed to stand down after an exchange of strikes. The news broke like a champagne cork at a funeral, prompting a collective sigh of relief from a planet that had been holding its breath since the last tweet from the Commander-in-Chief.
The conflict, which escalated with the precision of a drunken wildebeest, saw both sides fire missiles at each other like petulant children throwing stones over a garden fence. Thankfully, the only casualties appear to be the reputations of the hawks who were already drafting their memoirs on how they saved civilisation.
The President, looking as though he had just emerged from a three-day bender in a novelty shop, declared the situation under control and praised the 'great military' for their restraint. Iran, for its part, announced that it had 'concluded its proportionate response' which is diplomatic speak for 'we threw our toys out the pram and now we're tired'.
What is truly remarkable is how quickly both sides realised that the only winners in a war between the US and Iran would be the arms dealers and the manufacturers of flags with stars and stripes or Allahu Akbar motifs. The global stock market, which had been doing a passable impression of a rollercoaster at a funfair, immediately steadied itself. Meanwhile, the price of oil, which had been behaving like a caffeinated yo-yo, took a deep breath and remembered it had a day job.
Cynics may point out that this 'stand down' is merely a pause before the next round of chest-thumping and sabre-rattling. They may argue that the underlying tensions remain, that the nuclear deal is still in tatters, and that the region is a powder keg waiting for a lit match. To which I say: pass the gin.
For now, the world can breathe easy. The apocalypse has been postponed. The four horsemen have been told to take a seat in the waiting room. And we can all go back to worrying about more pressing matters, like whether the polar ice caps will melt before we finish this sentence.
In the immortal words of the philosopher Dr. Seuss: 'Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened.' Or, in this case, didn't happen.
Let us raise a glass of lukewarm gin (the only kind available at international crisis news desks) to the fragile art of de-escalation. To the diplomats who worked tirelessly behind the scenes. To the generals who realised that winning a war is easy, but winning the peace is a right bugger. And to the journalists who will now have to find something else to speculate about.
Stay tuned, dear readers. The next crisis is probably already queuing up outside the newsroom, demanding attention. But for now, enjoy the calm. It might not last. But then again, nothing ever does. Except possibly my hangover.
