In a move that has the diplomatic corps reaching for the extra-strength antacids, Iran has apparently mistaken Kuwait International Airport for a particularly ambitious falafel stand. Drone strikes, gentlemen. Not a metaphor. Actual buzzing, beeping, possibly exploding unmanned aircraft have turned the tarmac into a scene from a very specific, very anxious action film where the hero is a fire extinguisher.
The United Kingdom, ever the guardian of maritime and aerial gentility, has responded with the requisite stiff upper lip and a declaration that this constitutes a 'red line' in Gulf security. A red line, presumably, drawn in the sand with a stick of seaside rock that reads 'Don't Even Think About It' in fading letters. One pictures Foreign Office mandarins, monocles fogged with indignation, polishing their phraseology until it gleams with menace.
Let us dissect this theatrical performance, shall we? Iran's drones, those surgical instruments of chaos, have apparently strayed off course. Perhaps they were following a satnav that insisted on the scenic route. Or maybe, just maybe, they were testing the waters, probing the West's attention span. And what do they find? A UK that is currently more preoccupied with whether its prime minister can remember his own name than with the nuances of Gulf sovereignty.
Kuwait, for its part, has responded with the quiet dignity of a man who has just discovered a scorpion in his slipper. There will be consultations, stern words, possibly a strongly worded paragraph in the next UN assembly. Meanwhile, the drones sit on the runway, a monument to international relations' favourite pastime: missing the point entirely.
This 'red line' business is particularly rich. The UK has more red lines than a Victorian ledger. Red lines for Syria, red lines for Iran, red lines for the Falklands. They are drawn, redrawn, crossed, and forgotten with the regularity of a pub landlord changing the beer taps. The only red line that seems to stick is the one outside the Palace of Westminster, marking the spot where journalists are allowed to stand and shiver.
But let us not be entirely cynical. There is a silver lining to this aerial intrusion. Finally, an issue that unites the Gulf states: a shared fear of Iranian drone delivery services. And think of the boost to Kuwait's security industry! Every insurance salesman in the region is now updating their 'acts of god' clauses to include 'unexpected drone strikes from neighbourly states.' The paperwork alone will keep the Kuwaiti economy buoyant for years.
In conclusion, the UK's 'red line' is a glorious piece of political theatre, a pantomime horse with a stiff upper lip and a vague sense of dread. The drones will be forgotten. The red line will fade. And the gin cart at Kuwait Airport will do record business. Because when the world is on fire, the only sensible response is to mix a very dry martini and watch the chaos unfold from a safe, slightly tipsy distance.
