Sorry Sir Robert

No doubt Robert Mugabe spent a sleepless night recently, knowing that in the morning he would no longer be Sir Robert but just plain old mister.
I was so worried about the poor old dear that I pulled up some pictures of his palace on the internet and visualised him wandering aimlessly through the 30 jewel encrusted rooms or pottering about the 44 acres of manicured garden, uncertain as to what further blows might befall him.
And then Britain launched their ultimate weapon. They would apply sanctions against Zimbabwe.
In the good old days they might have sent a gunboat, although this would have presented a logistical problem here, but in default of much in the way of armed forces nowadays, it had to be sanctions.
A chilling response that must have sent shudders through his ancient frame.
Now anybody who has spent any time in Cuba will be aware that sanctions only impinge on the little people of a nation. The top echelon remain totally unscathed and, in fact, many of the more enterprising citizens can turn the situation to their own advantage, although not that of their fellows.
There is much blathering about a humanitarian crisis in Zimbabwe that sanctions can only serve to acerbate.
But meanwhile, the major supermarkets are happily buyng from a desperate nation forced to sell their products at rock bottom prices.