In a move that has shocked absolutely no one who has ever tasted retsina, a Greek wildfire is currently doing its level best to turn the Peloponnese into a kebab. And who should answer the call? British firefighters, of course, because if there is one thing this country loves more than queueing, it’s jumping into a crisis with a stiff upper lip and a hose.
The EU containment effort, presumably fuelled by bureaucracy and strong coffee, has been bolstered by our lads and lasses, who have swapped their customary cups of tea for something a little more... Mediterranean. Reports indicate the blaze, which has been described as 'theatre of the absurd set to a backdrop of smouldering olive groves', is being fought with the kind of grim determination usually reserved for a missing sock.
One firefighter, interviewed while swigging from a hip flask (which he claimed contained 'emergency rehydration fluid'), remarked: 'It’s just like the Yorkshire moors, but with more feta.' Meanwhile, the Greek government has promised to 'review its fire prevention strategy', a phrase that translates roughly to 'blame the tourists and have another ouzo'. As the flames lick at the edges of ancient ruins, one cannot help but think: this is the heat of empire finally catching up with us.
Or it's just a very hot summer. Either way, pass the gin.
