In a move that has left geopolitical analysts scrambling for their thesauruses and their smelling salts, the Taliban has decided to spice up their Tuesday with a spot of cross-border artillery fun at Pakistan's expense. Yes, you heard it here first, or possibly second, after the gentleman who shouted it from a minaret. The sound of distant thunder is not a hangover from last night's regrettable decision to mix vinho verde with absinthe, but the gentle pitter-patter of incoming shells.
Pakistan, a nation whose relationship with the Taliban can charitably be described as "complicated" (like trying to explain the plot of a Christopher Nolan film to a goldfish), is now facing the reality of their erstwhile house guests overstaying their welcome and redecorating with live ammunition.
Meanwhile, back in Blighty, the UK Border Force has been placed on high alert, which in practical terms means someone's been told to finish their digestive biscuit quickly and prepare for an influx of souls fleeing the chaos. One can only imagine the scene at the Home Office: a flurry of memos, a cascade of acronyms, and a quiet prayer that someone, somewhere, remembers where they put the contingency plans for "unexpected guests from a warzone."
Because nothing says "Global Britain" quite like scrambling to accommodate people who've just escaped an existential crisis.
The real question, however, is what kind of gin will be served at the emergency response meetings? I'm betting on a cheap supermarket brand with a hint of panic and regret. So as the Taliban pokes Pakistan with a sharp stick, and the UK prepares for the inevitable human detritus, we can all sit back and marvel at the sheer theatre of it all.
After all, in the great cosmic joke that is international politics, we are all merely extras waiting for our cue to flee.
