In a development that has sent shivers down the spines of biosecurity boffins and gin-swilling conspiracy theorists alike, a missing US laboratory worker has been discovered deceased, prompting calls for a rigorous British intelligence review of lab security. The poor chap, a technician at a high-security facility, was last seen clutching a vial of something unpronounceable before vanishing into the ether. His body turned up, and now the chattering classes are demanding that Her Majesty's spooks give our own labs a once-over.
Let us pause to savour the irony. The Americans, who have spent decades lecturing the rest of the world on security, have now misplaced a lab monkey. And not just any monkey: one with access to pathogens that could plausibly turn the entire population of Milton Keynes into quivering jelly. The Yanks have lost a worker and possibly a plague. We are supposed to feel reassured because the British intelligence community will now ‘review’ our own lab security. Has anyone told them that MI5 once lost a laptop containing the names of every agent in Northern Ireland? But never mind. The show must go on.
What, pray tell, does a ‘review of lab security’ entail? I imagine a dapper fellow from Thames House will saunter into Porton Down, ask for the key to the biocontainment cabinet, and be told it is behind the whisky bottle in the filing cabinet. He will nod gravely, write a report suggesting double padlocks and a stern memo about not using the vials as paperweights, and then toddle off for a spot of lunch. Meanwhile, the rest of us will be left to wonder whether the next pandemic will be delivered by Royal Mail or simply seep through the floorboards.
The real question, of course, is who is opening these labs? The Americans have more high-security labs than they have decent pizza joints. And now one of their workers has shuffled off this mortal coil in mysterious circumstances. Was it a tragic accident? A case of espionage? Or just another Tuesday in the world of biosecurity, where the greatest threat is not the pathogen but the clipboard-wielding bureaucrat who forgot to lock the door?
We must also consider the gin factor. My own liver has been a volunteer for decades, but even I know that you cannot fight a virus on an empty stomach. Yet here we are, staring down the barrel of yet another potential outbreak, and the best the British intelligence community can offer is a review. I propose a more radical solution: mandatory gin rations for all lab workers. At least then, if they do let something slip, they will be too pickled to care.
In conclusion, the death of a US lab worker is a tragedy. The call for a British intelligence review is a farce. But as long as the gin keeps flowing and the satirists keep writing, we may yet find a way to laugh in the face of the next apocalypse. Until then, keep your hazmat suits handy and your glasses full. Cheers.
