The only thing more shocking than the revelation that a British actress allegedly attempted to smuggle A$300 million worth of methamphetamine into Australia is the fact that nobody at Customs asked her for her autograph first. Yes, gentle reader, it appears that Her Majesty's subjects are at it again, only this time they are exporting the kind of grit that makes for a far more potent high than a West End revival of 'The Mousetrap'.
In a development that has left the nation's breakfast television presenters spluttering into their cornflakes, an actress whose name we shall not dignify with repetition has been charged with attempting to bring enough crystal meth into the Land of Oz to keep the entire Mad Max franchise in production for a decade. The amount of the drug, valued at a staggering A$300 million, is sufficient to obliterate the moral compass of a small continent and leave a trail of shattered lives in its wake.
Let us pause for a moment to consider the logistics of such an operation. One does not simply pop down to Boots and purchase a few bottles of 'Mr. Meth's Marvellous Sniffing Powder'. No, this was a conspiracy of such magnitude that it would make a Bond villain raise an eyebrow and shift uncomfortably in his sharkskin suit. The actress, whose previous credits include roles in shows you have probably forgotten you watched, now faces the prospect of swapping her trailer for a cell, her dressing room for a remand centre, and her craft services table for a prison cafeteria serving weevil-infested porridge.
Australia's federal police, no doubt delighted to have something more interesting to do than ticket jaywalking kangaroos, swooped with the grace of a crocodile rolling a hapless wallaby. They claim that the drugs were concealed in personal possessions shipped from the UK, which begs the question: what kind of person shoves a massive bag of methamphetamine into their luggage between the wellington boots and the souvenir tea towels? And why did nobody at the international packing service raise an eyebrow when they weighed the crate and found it heavier than the average elephant?
Back home, the British public has reacted with the appropriate mixture of horror, fascination, and a guilty sense of pride that one of our own could be so ambitious. 'This is not who we are,' proclaimed one fusty old columnist in The Telegraph, while simultaneously reaching for another biscuit. 'We are a nation of law-abiding citizens who would never dream of such folly.' This is, of course, the same country that gave the world Jack the Ripper, the Kray twins, and an entire genre of reality TV dedicated to people selling cars to each other. We are not a nation of innocents; we are a nation of enthusiastic amateurs who occasionally go professional.
But let us not mock the afflicted. The poor woman, if found guilty, faces a mandatory life sentence in a country where the sun shines relentlessly and every creature from spider to shark is actively trying to kill you. It is a punishment that makes our own 'special hell' of 15 years inside a damp British prison seem almost merciful by comparison. One can only imagine the conversation with the inmate who asks, 'So, what are you in for?' and the reply: 'I brought a bit of meth to a barbecue.'
Meanwhile, the Australian authorities are patting themselves on the back, the UK is left to wonder how someone with a CV consisting of 'appeared in two episodes of Holby City' could fund a transcontinental drug ring, and somewhere in a plush office in Los Angeles, a Hollywood agent is updating his 'Quietly Ignored' list. The only thing missing from this farce is a cameo by Crocodile Dundee, who would no doubt say, 'That's not a meth haul. THAT's a meth haul,' while brandishing a brick of the stuff the size of a suitcase.
In the end, the story is a cautionary tale, a lesson that if you are going to engage in international drug smuggling, you should probably not also be a minor celebrity whose face is vaguely recognisable to people who watch daytime telly. It is a reminder that the only thing more potent than methamphetamine is the terrible judgement of those who choose to traffic it. And it is, above all, a spectacularly entertaining failure of human ingenuity.
Now, if you will excuse me, I need a strong drink. Preferably not something that could dissolve the enamel from my teeth.
