In a move that shocked absolutely no one, His Majesty's Government has issued a sternly worded warning about the escalating situation in Gaza, following an Israeli strike that tragically killed civilians. Because nothing says 'decisive action' like a strongly worded letter read aloud to an empty room. The Foreign Office, a department whose primary function appears to be the mass production of damp-faced concern, has declared that the 'regional stability' is now wobbling like a drunk on a unicycle.
One can almost hear the collective clucking of tongues from Whitehall to Westminster. But let us not be churlish. Britain, that proud lighthouse of moral authority, has spoken.
The message, delivered via a single, tear-stained telegram, read: 'Please stop, we are very worried.' This, from a nation whose own recent military adventures have left more than a few 'regional stabilities' looking like a toddler's jigsaw puzzle. The irony is so thick you could spread it on toast.
Foreign Secretary David Lammy, a man whose default expression is that of a man who has just smelled a particularly aggressive cheese, emerged from the Foreign Office clutching a piece of paper and looking profoundly uncomfortable. He told the assembled press, 'We urge all parties to de-escalate. We call for restraint.
We, um, are very concerned.' This, after yet another night of explosions and wailing sirens, which, coincidentally, is also the soundtrack of my Friday nights when the neighbours are having a row. Meanwhile, in Gaza, the only 'restraint' being shown is the lack of hospital beds for the wounded.
But let's not get bogged down in reality. The British government is far too busy being 'engaged' and 'monitoring the situation' to actually do anything. Perhaps they will send a strongly worded tweet.
That usually fixes everything. Or maybe a strongly worded dinner party. The posh nosh circuit is a hotbed of international diplomacy.
I can see it now: over canapés and lukewarm Chardonnay, our great leaders will furrow their brows and say things like 'this simply cannot continue' before moving on to discuss the unfair price of artisan cheese. Because that is how you stop bombs. With cheese.
So let us raise a glass of lukewarm gin (the only kind worth drinking) to Britain's latest foreign policy triumph: a warning. A warning that will surely resound through the corridors of power, causing generals to pause, politicians to rethink, and bombs to fall silent. Or not.
But at least we can all feel a bit better about ourselves. After all, we warned them. We did our bit.
Now, back to the important business of pretending to care while sipping gin and tutting at the news.
