The echoes of the 1930s grow daily louder and clearer, eerier and scarier.
There is so much to be said. About the cant and perfidiousness of Labour MPs who call their leader a “fuhrer” because he wants to lead them not into war but away from it.
About the staggering hypocrisy of those who claim the moral high ground because they want to bomb people.
About the lies – or, at best, ignorance – of those who talk of “precision bombing”, as if the flattening of a country was somehow like a surgeon’s careful knife.
But all this and more is being said elsewhere by others, and I don’t want to add unduly to the already deafening clatter of the war-drums. So I shall just paraphrase the comedian Frankie Boyle, whose voice seems to be one of the few sane ones.
You don’t defend yourself against being stung by beating a wasps’ nest with a stick.
Oh, and there’s this: am I the only one who finds it ominous that China has for the first time decided to involve itself in military operations in the Mediterranean?
There is something imperialistic about any country choosing to get stuck in so far from home.
The Chinese, for now, seem to be on “our” side. Sort of. But then, Japan was on “our” side in the First World War.
Meanwhile, our government is happy – thrilled – to let China build nuclear installations on our coasts. Their finger, as it were, on our button.
Which, in some possible versions of the future, might look like a very clever weapons delivery system indeed.
Far-fetched, you may think. But don’t for a moment imagine the Chinese haven’t thought of it.