In what can only be described as a particularly aggressive game of whack-a-mole conducted at 30,000 feet, Israel has decided to redecorate the Lebanese skyline with smoking craters. Dozens are reported dead, which is, let’s face it, the ultimate party foul. The UK, bless their bumbling hearts, are ‘monitoring the situation’ from a safe distance, presumably with a cup of tea and a biscuit, tutting softly at the uncivilised behaviour.
The air campaign, which seems to have no regard for the Geneva Convention or basic human decency, has been ramped up to eleven. Prime Minister Netanyahu, looking increasingly like a man who has mainlined too much caffeine and ancient prophecy, claims these are ‘precision strikes’. Precision, in this context, means hitting exactly what you aim for, which of course is civilian infrastructure, hospitals, and the occasional school.
Because why not? The international community, that great and powerful beast, is doing what it does best: issuing strongly worded statements and scheduling emergency UN meetings where everyone will shout and then go home for dinner. The irony is palpable.
We have a word for this kind of thing: it’s called terrorism when someone else does it. But when it’s a ‘sovereign state’ with a good PR team, it’s ‘self-defence’. Meanwhile, the body count rises, and the UK monitors.
Monitors. As if they’re checking the weather. ‘Looks like more rain in the region today, and a 90% chance of death by airstrike.
’ I suggest we all take a step back and appreciate the sheer madness of a world where we watch these horrors unfold on our phones while ordering takeaway. The gin industry will not be affected, but I suspect my liver will be, as I try to drink the absurdity away. But it never works.
It never does.
