In a tragicomic display of administrative incontinence that would make Kafka weep into his beer, the vaunted Gaza evacuation system has proven about as effective as a chocolate teapot at a desert crossing. Patients, already clinging to life by their fingernails, are now expiring while waiting for the great machine of state to stamp the correct form in triplicate.
This is the West's grand humanitarian gesture? A parade of red tape that would choke a hippopotamus. The sick and wounded are left to rot while bureaucrats in air-conditioned offices argue over commas. It’s a masterclass in how to turn a crisis into a farce. The UN can’t organise a piss-up in a brewery, let alone a medical evacuation from a war zone.
Let’s not forget: those responsible for this shambles will never see a day in court. They’ll go on to write memoirs and collect speaking fees. Meanwhile, the dead are just statistics, fodder for the next news cycle. The only thing moving slower than an NHS waiting list is this 'humanitarian corridor'. It’s a sick joke.
I say we chain the UN secretary-general to a hospital bed in Gaza until he sorts it out. Or better yet, make every diplomat responsible for this debacle sit in a queue for medical care in a warzone. See how quickly the forms get signed then.
This is not aid. This is theatre. And the audience is sick of the performance.
