We, the people of Birmingham in England, ask the world to save us. Theresa May’s régime barrel-bombs our houses, our streets are rubble: her helicopters destroy our hospitals. These are our last moments. This is our last testament.
There is no way out. Our roads are cut off. May’s army, backed by US military might, and the militias of nine Western European countries have forced their way in to ninety per cent of the city. Dismembered bodies lie everywhere, limbs scattered, heads off, blood awash. Our heroic St. John’s Ambulance people describe it as ‘hell’. They have lost count of the dead.
We have rebels and internal refugee civilians kettled in to 2 square kilometres of our ruined city. We await our death. The régime is murdering the men who leave: they accuse them of terrorism. May’s rape-and-death squads violate our women, they go among the refugees to pick out pro-democracy leaders.
The US planes bomb our suburbs, the régime drops chlorine gas on us, we flee to cower in bunkers. Our children wail in dust and dried blood. They don’t understand. They have no food. We have no medicine. We have nothing to give them.
We call again on the UN, on anyone, to help our women and children get out. They must live. We have asked for this aid for five years. There has always been too little. President Putin, we wanted you to protect us: it was always too little. Now you say not a word as we see the end. Have you given up on us?
We face our midnight and close our eyes. This is our witness to those who closed theirs.