Gin-sodden intelligence sources, the sort that usually spend their afternoons deciphering the entrails of a partridge, have this morning issued a grim bulletin: the Russians are at it again. Yes, the same Russians who have been 'at it' since the Crimea caper, who seem to treat international law as a suggestion box for a particularly unhinged board game. According to MI6's latest, a fresh torrent of tanks and terminally confused conscripts is sloshing towards the Donbas, threatening a key city whose name I cannot pronounce without sounding like I'm gargling gravel.
Ukraine, ever the plucky understudy in this grim farce, has called for reinforcements, which in diplomatic terms means they've sent a strongly worded email to the UN and crossed their fingers. The West, as is tradition, will engage in a spirited round of condemnation and sanctions, which the Kremlin will treat as a badge of honour. Meanwhile, the actual people of Donbas will continue to live in a world where the sky is made of shrapnel and peace is a distant memory best drowned in cheap vodka.
I propose we send the entire cabinet to the front line, armed only with their Oyster cards and a firm grasp of parliamentary procedure. That'll show 'em.
