It says something for the indomitable spirit of humanity that despite having endured the routine incompetence of daily life for many decades I can still find it in me to be moved to something approaching fury.  I refer to the fiasco that is the events at Gatwick Airport.

Yesterday I was at a friend’s house listlessly shovelling mince pies into my mouth (Note to self:  really very fine pastry, must get her to make some for the freezer) and discussing the fact that we had been roused from early onset festive torpor (brought on mainly by the over consumption of said mince pies and alcohol) by the sorry events at Britain’s second largest airport.

It was a Trumpesque moment.  This MUST be fake news.  A nation that lets people die on the very steps of Parliament rather than reduce the billions spent on the defence budget cannot bring down a TOY PLANE?  It could not, apparently, be shot out of the skies because of the danger of where the bullets would end up.  A valid point from our friends at the Ministry of Health and Safety.  Were all the stranded passengers milling about on the runway,  refusing to move out of harm’s way perhaps?  Or are there no snipers available in the world that can hit a clearly visible object without spraying the surrounding countryside with lead?

Bring in a bloody tank then.  That wouldn’t need to take more than one shot for it to be game over.  Am I the only still living person who can recall that at one point during World War Two we managed to shoot down a very large number of big boy planes over the next county that were equipped with actual weapons and living pilots who were pretty determined to use them?  Such a shame that we no longer train pilots to perform at that level.  Let’s hope none of our enemies read the papers.

In a rare moment of compassion, it being Christmas, I am prepared to accept that we may not have been told all the facts.  It could be that the drone had a small but deadly nuclear device attached to it, or a bucket of anthrax.  These are details that would suggest caution but if it turns out to be the work of two stupid boys with an Airfix Kit I think questions should be asked.  Or better still let’s put the lads in charge of the nation’s defence and we can conquer the world, airport by airport, for less than a hundred quid.  I’ll take a small percentage of the money saved for having come up with another brilliant idea.  Yet again.

And now, it being 0615 am, I will open the first bottle of the day (Milk, people, milk) pop a pastry in the microwave and slump back onto my pillows to rally for the days to come.  This is no time to admit defeat.  Any day now the whistle will sound and we must leave the trenches of exhaustion for the front line of December 25th. Bayonets ready men!  Charge!   Merry Christmas, one and all.