In a development that has sent shivers down the spines of every gin-swilling foreign correspondent worth their salted peanuts, the British government has today demanded that Ukraine account for each and every one of its actions in Crimea. Yes, you heard that correctly. While Russia continues its amiable pastime of rearranging Ukrainian geography with ballistic accuracy, His Majesty's Government has decided that now is the perfect moment to wag a stern, brandy-stained finger at Kyiv. Because nothing says 'unflinching ally' like asking the victim to explain why their fingernails are dirty after a cage fight with a bear.
The Foreign Office, in a statement so dripping with condescension it could have been written by a retired colonel who still thinks the Empire is just 'resting,' declared that 'full accountability' must be provided. One can only imagine the scene at the Kremlin: Putin, pausing mid-bite of a raw onion, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye. 'They want Ukraine to apologise for defending itself?' he will surely chuckle, before ordering another round of missile strikes. It is satire so perfect that even I, a man who once reviewed a traffic jam as performance art, could not invent it.
Let us examine this absurdity more closely. Crimea, that sun-drenched peninsula where Russia has been holidaying since 2014 with a permanent squatting claim, has seen recent violence. Ukraine, in a shocking display of cheek, has been retaliating against Russian forces occupying their sovereign territory. And Britain's response? Demand an apology from the outgunned, outmanned nation that is simply trying to stop its citizens from being turned into statistics. It is like scolding a mouse for biting the cat that has been gnawing on its tail.
This is the same British government, I should remind you, that has been solemnly sending Ukraine defibrillators while Russia sends tanks. The same government that talks tough about 'standing with Ukraine' while simultaneously ensuring that the standing is done at a safe distance, preferably behind a podium. 'Full accountability' is the sort of phrase that sounds noble until you realise it is diplomatic code for 'We need to look busy while doing nothing concrete.' It is the verbal equivalent of a furrowed brow and a disappointed sigh.
What next? Will we demand that Ukraine produce receipts for every bullet fired? Will we insist that their soldiers wear name tags so we can properly attribute each act of self-defence? Perhaps we can send a delegation of clipboard-wielding bureaucrats to catalogue Russian war crimes while politely asking the Ukrainians to moderate their tone. The sheer, staggering absurdity of it would be comic if it were not so tragically predictable.
I propose a new slogan for Britain's foreign policy: 'We may not help you win, but by God we will ensure you lose with impeccable manners.' It has a certain ring to it, does it not? Meanwhile, in the real world, Russian missiles continue to fall on Ukrainian hospitals, schools, and residential blocks. But let us not get distracted by irrelevant details like mass civilian casualties. There is accountability to be demanded. From the victims.
The moral of this story? When you are being invaded, remember to always keep tidy notes. Because you never know when a former colonial power with a nostalgia for global relevance will ask you to justify your survival. Now if you will excuse me, I must drain my glass and compose a stern letter to the Kremlin demanding that they apologise for making me drink alone. That will surely sort everything out.
