There was this little incident, I was nine or so, I was trailing home one afternoon, tired, dreamy, across New Ferry Park, at the edge of which along my tedious route there were some allotments on the other side of iron railings, and along these railings I was running my stick, whose bark I had peeled off, when I thought I heard groans coming from the other side, from a little green tool shed, with nettles growing round it. I say I thought I had heard groans, but in fact I was sure, I mean there was no doubt, that I heard groans, moans, coming from the little shed, though quietly. But I refused to believe that I could hear groans, so help me, at nine I could lodge a doubt against the evidence of my senses. I had thought I should have to tell someone, go back to New Ferry, to the police station. But I felt too frightened to tell them in case I was wrong and they shouted at me. And so it was impossible that someone could be lying in that little hut, groaning. I was fearful, too, that it might be someone lying in wait, so I wouldn't investigate by climbing the railings, which was anyway not allowed and someone might see and shout and tell the police. So I just hurried home, sped by bad faith.

Is there much will for a diplomatic settlement? Leave aside the more important question whether that is the right way to proceed in the circumstances.