In a development that has sent tremors through the chancelleries of Europe and caused a minor spike in gin sales at Westminster, Volodymyr Zelensky's loyal chums have issued a five-point peace ultimatum. The document, reportedly scribbled on the back of a serviette during a particularly tense meeting, demands everything short of Putin's personal collection of soviet-era teaspoons. Britain, ever the loyal bulldog, has declared it will stand firm with Kyiv, a stance that has thrilled the Foreign Office's tea-and-biscuits division no end.
The ultimatum, which reads like a shopping list from a delusional dictator's dream, includes demands for the immediate withdrawal of Russian troops from all occupied territories, the establishment of an international tribunal for war crimes, and the return of all stolen grain silos. Quite reasonable, really, unless you happen to be a Kremlin apparatchik with a taste for annexed Crimea. The fifth point, whispered to include an apology from Putin for 'being a bit of a nuisance', is said to be the real sticking point.
Meanwhile, the UK's position remains as unshakeable as a post-Brexit trade deal. Downing Street has issued a statement vowing to 'support Ukraine for as long as it takes', a sentiment that has been met with a collective sigh of relief from the nation's gin distilleries. Boris Johnson, spotted emerging from a cabinet meeting with a stack of papers and a suspiciously empty glass, was overheard muttering something about 'Churchillian resolve' and 'the importance of a stiff drink in times of crisis'.
Across the Channel, Macron is reportedly huffing and puffing about diplomatic channels. The French president, who has the charisma of a damp baguette, has suggested that perhaps everyone should just calm down and have a nice cup of coffee. Scholz, meanwhile, is doing what he does best: looking deeply worried and hoping the problem will go away if he ignores it long enough.
But back to the ultimatum. Critics have pointed out that expecting Putin to agree to any of these points is like expecting a cat to voluntarily take a bath. The Russian president, who has been compared to everything from a Bond villain to a particularly aggressive chess grandmaster, is unlikely to be swayed by a strongly worded list. Still, it's the thought that counts, and Zelensky's allies have clearly put a lot of thought into their punctuation.
In the grand tradition of international diplomacy, the ultimatum comes with a deadline: 48 hours for a formal response. If history is any guide, this means Putin will respond with a new wave of disinformation, a pointed reference to NATO's expansion, and possibly a threat to cut off gas supplies to the entire continent. The EU, which has been stockpiling woolly jumpers and panic, is bracing for the worst.
As the clock ticks down, the world holds its breath. Or at least, the bits of the world that aren't currently distracted by the cost of living crisis, the latest Netflix series, or the price of a pint. In the meantime, I shall be in the press bar, researching the effect of stress on the human liver. Cheers.
