In a development that has sent shockwaves through the chintz-upholstered corridors of the Foreign Office, the UK has formally condemned the recent Iran-US strikes as a 'threat to global stability.' This pronouncement, delivered with the gravitas of a man discovering a foreign object in his crumpet, was issued from a room where the most violent thing on display is a portrait of Lord Palmerston looking vaguely disapproving.
Let us pause to appreciate the sheer theatre of this. The United Kingdom, a nation that has not been able to project power beyond its own coastline since the Suez Crisis, has wagged its finger at the two heavyweight bullies in the schoolyard. It is a spectacle akin to a dachshund barking at a pair of rutting stags. One admires the spirit, even as one questions the sanity.
The Foreign Office statement, penned no doubt by a junior minister whose greatest previous challenge was choosing between clotted cream and jam first, deplores the 'escalation' and 'reckless endangerment of civilians.' This from a country whose foreign policy in the last century involved placing the world map in a blender and pressing 'puree.' The irony is so thick you could spread it on a scone.
But let us not be churlish. The man from the FO did what he had to do: he stood at a podium, looked suitably grave, and intoned words that will change absolutely nothing. The bombs will continue to fall, the diplomats will continue to fume, and somewhere in a Whitehall basement, a civil servant will file this statement next to a dossier marked 'Things We Can Do Absolutely Nothing About'.
Meanwhile, the real threat to global stability remains what it has always been: the unshakeable belief of every nation that its particular brand of violence is somehow more noble than the others'. The US strikes in the name of freedom. Iran strikes in the name of revolution. The UK strikes (or rather, doesn't strike, but tuts loudly) in the name of 'rules-based international order.' It is a game of global thrones, and we are all just extras in the background, hoping the CGI budget holds out.
I shall now retire to the press bar, where the gin is as cheap as the moral posturing. I will drink to the brave men and women of the Foreign Office, who have once again proven that the pen is mightier than the sword, provided the pen is attached to a very long, very pointed finger of blame.
In conclusion, our government has done what it does best: issued a sternly worded letter to the universe. If global stability were a pub brawl, the UK would be the bloke in the corner offering to call an ambulance while taking meticulous notes on the assailants' descriptions. Do not mistake this for courage. It is simply the last refuge of a nation that has run out of empires but not out of opinions.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a rendezvous with a bottle of Gordon's. The ice is melting, the world is burning, and someone has to document the precise shade of ash.
