The earth has moved, and not in the way that makes expat Britons reach for a damp flannel and a stiff G&T. No, this was a 7.1 magnitude shudder that has left 32 souls dispatched to the great cocktail lounge in the sky, with dozens more clinging to the wreckage like barnacles on a sinking ship.
And who is feeling the tremors most acutely? Why, our very own sun-baked expat community, huddled in their condos in Cebu and Manila, clutching their NHS cards and wondering if their travel insurance covers 'apocalyptic tectonic fury'. The Foreign Office, in a state of high dudgeon, has issued the usual platitudes: 'We are in contact with local authorities.
' Which is code for: 'We've rung the British Embassy in Manila, but the line is engaged, probably because some poor sod is trying to claim for a shattered karaoke machine.' Let us not mince words. This is a catastrophe.
But in true British fashion, the primary concern is not the dead, but the disruption to the all-inclusive bar. Reports are flooding in of expats panic-buying packets of McVitie's digestives and stocking up on Hendrick's, as if a gin-and-tonic will somehow repel falling masonry. I interviewed one such gentleman, Nigel Fortescue-Browning, who was found sobbing into a bucket of ice.
'It's the bloody uncertainty,' he wailed. 'I don't know if I should evacuate or just order another round.' This is the state of our nation abroad.
Meanwhile, the Filipino people, who know a thing or two about disaster, are digging through rubble with their bare hands. But do we hear about that? No.
We hear about the plight of the expat, the poor soul who has had to cancel his golf booking. The death toll rises, but the only number that matters to the Telegraph reader is the percentage of premium lager still available at the resort. The Philippine Institute of Volcanology and Seismology has warned of aftershocks.
But the real aftershock will be when these expats return to Blighty and find that their local Waitrose has run out of posh crisps. Then we'll see some real suffering. In summary, 32 dead, countless injured, and a nation in mourning.
But for the expat community, the real tragedy is the disruption to the 4pm happy hour. Stay classy, Britain. Stay classy.
