A tense EU Emergency Summit at midnight.
26 Foreign Ministers sit in The Chamber, nervous and worried at events. A quiet, yet urgent, ripple of conversation spreads among the delegates as they await the next speaker. The doors to the conference room opens, and an anticipatory silence falls across the room.
Enter Prime Minister Gibbon Broon from stage left, fly unzipped, tie loose in his collar. As usual.
BROON: Thank you for -uh - coming. Fellow EU members, I believe that the actions of Russia are a dangerous violation of International Law and we must get on with the job..uh...oops, sorry, wrong speech...uh...we must show Russia this in the strongest terms.
There is a pause as BROON wrings his hands, grins nervously and, after a root around in his left nostril, has a quick nibble on a cuticle.
BROON: So my fellow Members. I say that we have to act as one, and impose immediate economic sanctions upon Russia!
The Chamber of delegates applauds. Shouts of 'hear, hear' can be heard over the clapping.
The CHAIRMAN'S telephone rings. There is a muttered conversation between the CHAIRMAN and the caller. The CHAIRMAN puts the caller on speakerphone.
A jovial, yet cold, voice booms out across the Chamber.
PRESIDENT STALINPUTIN: Good evening, Comrades. I couldn't help but overhear - it sounded like you were talking about putting sanctions in place against the Motherland.
FX: heavy machinery, the sound of oil pipelines across the Causasus shutting down.....
PRESIDENT STALINPUTIN: Would you mind repeating yourself please - only I couldn't hear properly over the noise of your bloated, energy-dependent economies grinding to a destructive halt.
BROON: Er. Yes. But no. Er. Hi, Vladimir. No, nonononono. Er.....
A pause, pregnant with tension, as BROON excavates his right nostril.
BROON: What we meant to say...uh....was. Erm. Yes, no. Gerringonwiththejob. Ah. Er.... IRAN! Yes, Iran! We were just saying that Iran's being naughty and we should apply sanctions to them. Not you. No, definitely not. Honest.
The Chamber erupts in muttered support for BROON's comments. Calls of 'No, not Russia, definitely not', and 'We meant Iran, honest!' can be heard from the assembled Foreign Ministers.
Again, there is a muted conversation, and again, the CHAIRMAN puts the incoming caller on speakerphone to address the Chamber.
PRESIDENT CANIDOAJIHADYET: Greetings, Western Infidels.
There are muffled and insincere greetings from the Chamber.
BROON: Oh. Ahmed. Er. Hello, how's the...uh...weather over there in Iran?
CANIDOAJIHADYET: Oh, you know, infidel - sunny and bright, as ever. But enough of such pleasantries. I wish you Lesser Satans to listen to something.
FX: heavy machinery - the sound of gas pipes being shut off.
CANIDOAJIHADYET: So, infidel - please continue, I believe you were saying something about sanctions?
BROON: Er. Well...uh...I was just gerringonwiththejoband...no, Mister Ahmed. Er. I think you must have misheard. Sanctions? Turns to the assembled Chamber. Sanctions? Anybody here?
Muffled conversations, tinged with a hint of panic....
BROON: No. Er, we were talking about Sandwiches! Yes, sandwiches! For the buffet. Er. You know, next G8 and all that, got to get the catering right, you know....
CANIDOAJIHADYET and STALINPUTIN: Aha. So, we'll just carry on doing what we were doing then?
BROON: Yes, yes, of course. That's fine. Don't mind us.
CANIDOAJIHADYET and STALINPUTIN hang up, each laughing at the impotence of the EU.
BROON: Curses. Suppose I'll just have to stick with fucking up my own country then.