Beneath the balmy blanching bosom of the Indian Ocean, a grotesque but inevitable development has concluded. The final mortal fragments of our late, lamented, and frankly ill-advised Italian signori and signorine have been recovered from a cave in the Maldives, which by all accounts was clearly marked 'THIS WAY TO AQUATIC OBLIVION – DO NOT ENTER' in seventeen languages, including Love Island dialect.
It appears the tourists, presumably emboldened by a gutful of cheap Chianti and the mistaken belief that their Mediterranean bone-structure would naturally repel any oceanic menace, decided to explore a subterranean water feature. Tragically, the Indian Ocean declined their request for a selfie and promptly swallowed them whole.
Now, after weeks of delicate, yes delicate, salvage operations involving canny local divers and what must have been the world's dampest hoover, the final remains have been reunited with the mainland. Of course, 'reunited' is a generous term. One victim was discovered wedged in a rocky crevice, performing what marine biologists are calling a 'stunning impression of a discarded burrito.' Another had clearly been utilised as a luxurious chaise longue by lobsters of discerning taste.
Local authorities, with faces as straight as a politician's spine, commended the recovery teams for their 'skill and persistence.' They did not however, commend the tourists for their 'fundamental disregard for physics and common sense.' The Italian embassy has issued a statement expressing 'profound sorrow' and hinting at 'extreme disappointment' that the victims did not have the decency to expire in a more accessible and less ruinously expensive location.
One is reminded of that old proverb: 'When the sea wants you, it will have you, especially if you are a rotund Italian gentleman in a Speedo.' The Maldives, famed for its crystalline waters and Instagrammable overwater bungalows, now boasts an additional attraction: a cave that will happily eat you whole and spit your remains out at the rate of roughly one percentage point per week.
As this sordid tale of brine and blunder draws to a close, we can at least take comfort in the knowledge that the tourists have, at last, been repatriated. They will receive a hero's funeral, or at least a vaguely respectful one, once the coroner has finished identifying the parts. And somewhere, in a government office in Rome, a clerk is filling in a form marked 'Cause of Death: Catastrophic Stupidity.'
Goodbye, brave chancers. You taught us nothing, but you were very foolish indeed.
