The Foreign Office has issued a sternly worded condemnation of Venezuela's seismic response to its own seismic disaster. Because nothing says 'we care' like a strongly worded letter when the ground is still swallowing people whole.
The quake, which rattled Caracas with the enthusiasm of a toddler learning to break things, has left a death toll climbing faster than a politician's expenses. And what has Britain done? Waved a disapproving finger from across the Atlantic, because clearly the Venezuelan authorities were waiting for a lecture from a country that can't even sort out its own train timetable.
Let us applaud the Foreign Office's bravery in condemning delays. Because when a nation's infrastructure is reduced to rubble, what it truly needs is not rescue teams or medical supplies but a polite note expressing 'deep concern'. I imagine the Venezuelan president was on the phone to his counterpart, begging for blanket advice rather than, say, helicopters.
This is the same Foreign Office that condemned the Russian invasion of Ukraine while simultaneously debating the merits of sending old tanks. Now they're tutting at Venezuela. It's the diplomatic equivalent of shouting 'Fire!' in a crowded theatre and then handing out leaflets on fire safety.
The tragedy, of course, is real. Thousands dead. Homes reduced to matchsticks. But our response? A press release drafted by a junior minister who probably googled 'Venezuela' and was surprised it wasn't a type of pasta. They condemned the delays, but what about the delays in their own response? The time it took to brew the tea before issuing the statement?
And let's not forget the irony. Britain, a nation that once had an empire built on exploiting these very lands, now stands as the moral arbiter of disaster management. We sent thoughts and prayers, which I'm sure the Venezuelan people will convert into food and water through sheer willpower.
Perhaps next time we could send something useful. A packet of biscuits. A map. A functioning government. But no, we must maintain our proud tradition of impotent outrage. We'll condemn the delays, then move on to the next crisis, leaving the dead to bury their dead under the rubble of our indifference.
So here's to the Foreign Office. Masters of the stern note. Champions of the pointed finger. May your press releases be as sturdy as your promises, and your condemnation as useful as a chocolate teapot in a heatwave. The quake may have stopped, but the aftershocks of our hypocrisy will rumble on.
