Athens, or what remains of it. The cradle of democracy is currently roasting like a chestnut on an open fire as a catastrophic wildfire tears through the Attica region. Flames licking at the Parthenon’s foundations, smoke choking the Acropolis. It's a tragedy, a crisis, a perfectly timed test for the concept of ‘European solidarity’ that our dear leaders have been muttering about over lukewarm tea in bunkers.
Enter stage right: Her Majesty's Government, dispatching a UK wildfire response unit with the speed of a man who's left his keys in the pub. Yes, the same unit that was likely budgeted for last year's Glastonbury mud emergency. But here they are, brave souls, packed with hoses and a can-do attitude, flying into the inferno to prove that Brexit doesn't mean we're a nation of selfish, pasty-guzzling island dwellers.
“We stand with Greece,” declares some ministerial talking head, probably a man named Nigel or Alistair, who last visited a forest during a corporate team-building exercise in the Lake District. “This is what solidarity looks like.” But does anyone believe him? Or are we all just waiting for the inevitable “Greek fires: a stark warning for UK homeowners” headline in the Daily Mail?
The horror is, of course, real. Hundreds forced to flee, homes reduced to ash, ancient olive trees turned to charcoal. This is not a metaphor. But satire’s job is to hold a mirror to the absurdity of our response. So here we are, dispatching a unit that will probably spend more time arguing over the kettle than actually fighting flames. Meanwhile, Greek firefighters, exhausted, underpaid, and under-resourced, battle the beast with garden hoses and prayers to Zeus.
But look on the bright side: think of the photo opportunities! Ministers in hi-vis jackets standing in front of a charred landscape, looking suitably concerned. Think of the hashtag. #UKWithGreece. Think of the memes. Think of Boris Johnson, if he weren't currently occupied with partygate testimony, perhaps tweeting a garbled quote from Aeschylus about fire and punishment.
The truth is, this fire is a test. A test of how quickly a post-Brexit Britain can pretend to care about its European neighbours when it’s not lucrative. A test of whether the public can swallow the platitudes while they complain about the price of petrol. For now, we pass. For now, we send our tiny unit. But let's not kid ourselves. If the wind changes direction and the smoke drifts towards Dover, we'll be building moats.
So raise a glass of cheap retsina (or Greek ouzo, if you're feeling authentic) to the brave men and women flying into hell. They are the best of us. And also, possibly, a PR stunt. But for God's sake, let's hope they have enough water. And gin. Lots of gin.
