by John Ward
The situation in and around Syria is dangerous enough as I write to merit some jet-black satire. That’s the thing with geopolitics and the American dash for World hegemony: you could die laughing about it. If you thought wars about Gods who may not exist were bad enough, it could be that we’re about to go nuclear on the basis of the US car driver’s addiction to the internal combustion engine – Pius II may have been right after all. Or he may not.
The “Great Powers” failed to agree on the format and remit of an enquiry into the Syrian “gas attack” yesterday, so this now means we are making full sail for World War 3 on the following bases:
- A poison attack that may or may not have happened, where the victims were said to be dying, but then found to be in rude health
- An incident in a sleepy British market town, the “facts” of which are refuted by the local police, hospital and chemical weapons factory
- The sayso of a proven political failure, a serially proven liar, and a political novice who shags his mother
- A gas attack that may or may or may not have happened, and if it did, then nobody anywhere can be certain Whodunit
- The failure of the representatives of a country run by a dictator who likes taking his shirt off, a country run by a pussy-grabbing puppet, a country run by a banker – and a country run by a woman who Mayormaynot be in control – to reach a decision about the verification or otherwise of things that may or may not have happened….under the auspices of an organisation generally dominated by black African whingeing in one form or another.
Oh for the days in previous centuries when wars started for some kind of substantive reason like crusades, marriage, imperial conquest, revolutions, uppity natives and other worthwhile causes. As things stand in relation to the current soap, the War of Jenkins’ Ear was an infinitely more solid starting point for carnage: you know – an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, and a war for an ear. It’s the human way.
But now we have a “modern” development of the human way; it is called the Geopolitical May.
This is not, as you have no doubt already discerned, a reference to the British Prime Minister Theresa May, a person who has difficulty seeing beyond which power-trousers to wear, never mind grasp the subtleties of international brutality.
What I mean is that we live in the World of May now – short for ‘may be true, may be a load of old cobblers’ – and so it was almost inevitable that in the end (and ‘end’ may itself by an advisable mot juste) we would have The War of May. April is only twelve days old, and the signs are that the balloon will go up within hours rather than weeks, but you know what I mean: it is a war based on nothing.
Perhaps distant Masters of the Universe hop on their Time/Space dilators now and then – it was then, but then it’s now – and take another look at how The Great Evolutionary Mistake is getting on. If so, they will able to report back to Lizard HQ that the former fish who somehow lucked into running Earth are about to annihilate themselves before they could learn how to travel pan-galactically and thus do some serious damage.
So who can tell? Next weekend, we may all be dead. Or somebody whose IQ may be in double figures may step in at the last minute and say that, just maybe, a storm in a teacup is fine, but a full-on nuclear exchange in a coffee mug may not be called for. Or ordinary citizens in the US, Russia, France and Britain may form an online movement called something like “We may be baffled but we’re not stupid, so stop it now or you may have an intercontinental riot on your hands”.
Better get this out there, otherwise I may be overtaken by….what was that thing bang outside….oh my…..