In a move that has left child psychologists reaching for the gin and the rest of us questioning the very fabric of civilisation, a French mother and her partner have been detained in Portugal after allegedly abandoning her two young sons by the roadside. The boys, aged 9 and 11, were found wandering near a motorway in the Algarve, looking rather less than pleased with their lot. British officials, because apparently there is no corner of the globe where they will not poke their noses, are monitoring the case with the sort of earnest concern usually reserved for a missing stamp collection.
Let us dissect this little gem of human folly. The mother, a 34-year-old woman whose grasp on maternal duty seems to have been left in the glove compartment of her abandoned car, and her partner, a man whose contribution to the situation appears to have been little more than moral support for the most cock-eyed plan since the Schlieffen Plan, are now guests of the Portuguese justice system. The children, it is reported, are in the care of local authorities. One imagines them being fed warm milk and given colouring books, while their mother sits in a cell contemplating the life choices that led to this nadir.
What, one wonders, is the thought process here? 'You know, darling, I think the boys could do with a bit of roadside self-reliance. Survival of the fittest, and all that. Look, there's a nice patch of gravel. Let's leave them there and see if they can hitchhike to a better life.' The mind boggles. This is not a forgotten packed lunch or a late school run. This is a deliberate, cold-blooded abandonment. And British officials, with their stiff upper lips and briefcases full of protocols, are monitoring. Monitoring! As if watching a pot of lukewarm water in the hope it might boil.
Meanwhile, in Britain, we have our own domestic circus. The government, caught between a cost-of-living crisis and a partygate hangover, is no doubt using this as a distraction. 'Look, a French parenting scandal! Focus on that, not the fact that our Prime Minister changes his policies more often than his socks.' It is a classic political sleight of hand. But we, the gin-soaked truth-seekers of the fourth estate, are not so easily fooled.
Let us raise a glass, or rather a bottle, to the Portuguese police who stumbled upon this scene. Their work is done. The rest of us are left to ponder the existential dread that comes with realising that some people should never be allowed near children, let alone responsible for them. The mother and partner will likely face charges. The children will likely need therapy. And British officials will continue to monitor, presumably until their tea goes cold.
In conclusion, this is a story that encapsulates the sheer, unadulterated ridiculousness of modern life. We are a species that can split the atom but cannot manage to keep its offspring from being dumped by the side of the road. Bravo, humanity. Bravo.
