In a development that has sent tremors through the diplomatic community and caused a minor spike in gin sales at the House of Commons bar, the United Nations has demanded that Iran release the British-linked Foreman family. The family, whose precise connection to Britain appears to be a distant cousin who once ate a scone in Windsor, have been detained in Tehran on charges that remain as clear as the Thames after a sewage spill.
Downing Street, in a display of ferocity not seen since the last reshuffle, has 'pressed for release' through channels that involve a lot of arched eyebrows and passive-aggressive notes left in the UN cafeteria. The Prime Minister, looking as flustered as a man who has been told his bacon sandwich is now a plant-based alternative, declared that Britain 'will not rest' until the Foremans are home. A statement that, much like a soggy British summer, offers more dampness than warmth.
Iran, for its part, has responded with the kind of dismissive shrug usually reserved for a wrong number or a demand for their nuclear programme to be dismantled. The Foreign Minister, speaking through a translator who seemed to be enjoying the absurdity a little too much, suggested that the Foremans are being treated 'humanely' and that their release is contingent on 'full cooperation' with an investigation into what can only be described as 'vague misconduct'.
The Foremans, meanwhile, are reportedly being held in a luxury prison complex that boasts both a pool and a self-help library. Their main complaint, according to leaked letters smuggled out in a loaf of bread, is the poor selection of international newspapers and a worrying lack of Yorkshire tea.
The UN Security Council, in an emergency session that was largely derailed by arguments over who would bring the biscuits, issued a resolution demanding the family's release. The resolution, crafted with the usual UN precision, uses phrases like 'deep concern' and 'urges' in such high concentration that diplomats had to take breaks to recover from the sheer force of its passivity.
Closer to home, the British public has responded with a level of fury usually reserved for queues and tepid beer. A snap poll of 500 randomly selected pub-goers found that 87% believe the government should 'do something' while 92% admitted they had no idea who the Foremans were until this morning.
As the situation drags on, one cannot help but wonder if this isn't all an elaborate scheme by Iran to distract from their failing economy and the fact their national football team can't seem to qualify for anything. Or perhaps it's just another Tuesday in the theatre of the absurd that we call international relations.
For now, we wait. The gin flows. The diplomats posture. And somewhere in Tehran, the Foremans are probably asking for a game of Monopoly and wondering why their distant cousin never visits.
