The Ministry of Defence has issued a solemn warning that the Ebola outbreak in the Democratic Republic of Congo poses a 'direct threat to global security,' which is military-speak for 'we are terrified and have no idea what to do.' Defence chiefs, who usually reserve their existential dread for Russian submarines and the possibility of a bad wi-fi signal at a missile base, have suddenly discovered a whole new continent to worry about.
According to sources, the MoD is particularly concerned that the virus might somehow infiltrate Whitehall, forcing them to cancel their daily constitutional to the canteen for a full English breakfast. 'If the outbreak reaches these shores,' a senior source confided, 'we may have to implement a strategic retreat to our second line of defence: a large stash of gin in a locked filing cabinet.'
The WHO has been scrambling to contain the outbreak in North Kivu, but the UK's top brass are already drawing up contingency plans. These include stockpiling hand sanitiser, banning handshakes at military parades, and deploying a rapid-response unit of particularly aggressive janitors. 'We are considering a full-scale disinfection of all parliamentary chambers,' a MoD spokesman announced. 'This will allow us to simultaneously deal with the virus and the usual levels of muck and hypocrisy.'
Meanwhile, the government has assured the public that 'all necessary steps are being taken,' which means a committee has been formed to form another committee to investigate the possibility of scheduling a meeting about the issue sometime after the next reshuffle. Boris Johnson, when reached for comment, was reportedly ambivalent, preferring to focus on the more immediate threat of a cold draft from a poorly sealed window.
But let's not mock the military's newfound concern for public health. After all, if there's one thing that unites the British establishment, it's the deep, abiding terror of anything that might disrupt the smooth flow of their pensions and afternoon tea. The Ebola outbreak, with its messy bodily fluids and grim death toll, is simply too visceral a reminder that nature has no respect for protocol, ceremony, or the proper order of things.
So here's to the generals, the mandarins, and the men in suits who now have to worry about more than just the price of their morning coffee. They will vanquish Ebola with the same vigour they brought to Iraq, Afghanistan, and the hunt for the lost city of Atlantis. In the meantime, I suggest we all stock up on gin, practise our social distancing, and pray that the nearest hospital has enough rubber gloves to go around.
