In a rare moment of the universe not entirely taking the piss, hundreds of souls have been liberated from a Boko Haram mountain hideout, with UK intelligence allegedly providing the shove from the shadows. The operation, which sounds like something from a discarded Bond script, actually happened, and I'm here to report on it through a haze of aviation-grade cynicism and lukewarm G&T.
Let's start with the basics. Boko Haram, for those who have been living under a rock (or in a mountain hideout), are the chaps who think the 14th century was a bit too liberal. They've been holed up in the Sambisa Forest, a place so grim it makes Grimsby look like the French Riviera. But now, thanks to some coordinated muscle and presumably a very detailed map, hundreds of their captives are out and blinking in the sunlight.
Now, the UK's involvement. Our intelligence services, usually found eavesdropping on your gran's phone calls about her cat, apparently had a hand in this. I imagine the briefing went something like: 'Right, chaps, we've located the bastards. Time to make ourselves useful for once.' And, lo and behold, they did. The Nigerian military, who have the patience of saints and the equipment of a boot sale, managed to storm the fortress and free the hostages. No word yet on whether they found any decent wine in the larder.
The freed captives: a mix of women, children, and men who have likely seen things that would make a demon weep. They emerge to a world that has moved on without them, where Twitter is the new opium of the masses and the biggest threat is a poorly phrased tweet. But for them, this is a rebirth. One hopes the British government is ready with the tea and sympathy, because these people have had a rough time of it.
But let's not get too misty-eyed. This is a victory, sure, but Boko Haram is like a particularly resilient weed: cut off one head, and three more pop up in a different part of the garden. The mountain hideout was just one node in a network of misery. The real battle is against the ideology that thinks mutilating children is a legitimate form of negotiation. That's a war not won with guns alone.
And let's not forget the geopolitics. UK intelligence gets to pat itself on the back, the Nigerian government gets a morale boost, and the rest of us get to feel a brief warm glow before returning to our daily grind of wage slavery and existential dread. The cycle continues.
But for now, let's raise a glass to the freed, to the intelligence officers who did something right, and to the sheer bloody-mindedness of the human spirit. The gin is on me, though it's probably the cheap stuff from the corner shop. Still, it's the thought that counts.
Signed with a flourish from my desk at the edge of reason, Biff Thistlethwaite.
