In a development that will surprise precisely no one who has ever watched a bearded man in a cagoule describe a hole in the ground as 'character building', the Laos cave rescue has officially pivoted from 'damp novel plot' to 'grim reality of two still missing'. A British-led team, operating on a cocktail of stoicism, Kendal Mint Cake, and what one can only assume is an industrial vat of gin, has pronounced the remaining survivors 'remarkably courageous' while simultaneously hinting that the caverns are, and I quote, 'a bit of a bugger to navigate after the monsoon'.
Let us take a moment to appreciate the sheer theatre of this. Here we have a subterranean labyrinth in Southeast Asia, slowly filling with water, and the people tasked with solving it are the same nation that brought us organised queuing and a deep, spiritual belief that a cup of tea fixes everything. One imagines the rescue plan was scrawled on a napkin in a pub in St Albans. 'Right, Bob, you take the left tunnel, I'll take the right, and if you hit a dead end, just pop back for a biscuit.' The team, a motley assortment of ex-special forces, cavers with head torches the size of dinner plates, and men who have an alarming knowledge of what happens to the human body after three days without a proper roast, have reported that the two unaccounted-for individuals are 'likely alive but conserving energy'. In translation: they're probably sitting in a dark chamber, wondering why they didn't just become accountants.
The 'courage' of the survivors, as hailed by the team, is a narrative staple. It is the same courage we ascribe to anyone who has survived a Tube delay without screaming. But let us be honest: what else can a survivor be but courageous? The alternative is lying down and accepting the damp, cold embrace of the limestone. No, the real courage here is from the rescuers, who have to contend with leeches, mud, and the British insistence on calling everyone 'mate' even when said mate is dangling over a subterranean chasm.
Meanwhile, the Laotian government has expressed gratitude for the 'international cooperation', which in bureaucratic terms translates to 'we have no idea what we're doing, please send your mad people with ropes'. The British team, for their part, have expressed confidence in a successful resolution, provided the weather holds, the water levels stabilise, and no one mentions the word 'spelunking' because 'caving' is far more serious.
So as the world holds its breath, or at least the parts of the world that have access to BBC News 24, we must ask: what have we learned? That caves are wet. That Britons thrive in adversity. And that the word 'mission' sounds infinitely more noble when applied to a rescue than to a trip to Tesco for a pint of milk. Godspeed, you muddy, brave, slightly damp souls. May your torches never dim, and your gin never run dry.
