In a move that has the Foreign Office reaching for the smelling salts and a stiff G&T, Myanmar's unelected president has toddled off to Delhi for a chat about 'regional cooperation.' This is the diplomatic equivalent of inviting Dracula around for a blood donation session. The junta chief, a man whose grasp on legitimacy is about as firm as a wet teabag, is no doubt hoping to secure some arms deals or at least a nice curry.
Meanwhile, Whitehall is reportedly 'monitoring' the situation, which in Foreign Office parlance means they're furiously googling 'Myanmar' and 'human rights' while hoping nobody asks awkward questions about the Raj. The sheer gumption of it all. Here's a chappie who oversaw the crackdown on the Rohingya, a chap whose regime is so popular they had to lock up all the opposition, swanning into New Delhi for pleasantries.
And India, bless its pragmatic heart, is playing the game of 'we need to counter China, so let's befriend the local despot.' It's the realpolitik of the schoolyard: you don't have to like the bully, you just need him on your side. The UK's response?
They'll keep an eye on it, which I imagine involves a junior minister squinting at a map and muttering about tea imports. But let's not pretend we're the moral arbiters here. We still sell arms to Saudi Arabia.
We still have Lord So-and-So on the board of some dodgy mining conglomerate. So while the junta enjoys his state banquet and India pretends not to notice the blood on his hands, the rest of us can only watch, pour another drink, and marvel at the sheer absurdity of it all. Because in the theatre of geopolitics, the only sin is getting caught.
