It seems the Antipodes have traded their kangaroos for rodents. The mouse plague ravaging New South Wales is not merely an agricultural catastrophe; it is a test of imperial mettle. As Australia’s farms drown in a sea of squeaking vermin, the UK’s post-Brexit trade deal hangs in the balance, demanding biosecurity action that the Australians have been slow to execute.
One cannot help but recall the fall of Rome, where grain shortages from provincial mismanagement heralded decay. Here, the mice are the barbarians at the gate, and the gate is Britain’s food security. The Victorian era taught us that empire requires order: clean ports, strict quarantines, and a contempt for pestilence.
Yet Canberra dithers, issuing bromides while the rodents multiply. Is this not the intellectual decadence of a nation that has grown soft on the fruits of Commonwealth preference? If the UK is to sign a deal, it must demand a pest-control regimen worthy of a global power.
Otherwise, we shall witness not a trade agreement but a Trojan mouse, carrying disease and disgrace into our markets. The plague is a mirror: it reflects the laziness of a once-great dominion. Let the mice remind us that empire is preserved by vigilance, not sentiment.
