One of my cats is a half decent mouser. The problem is, once he's caught one he just doesn't know what to do with it; the idea of eating it never occurs to him, so he plays with it until it dies. I then have to drop the little mouse corpse into the recycling bin.
Libya, unfortunately, is a little more problematical to dispose of than a dead mouse, but neither Cameron, Obama or Sarkozy have any more idea than my cat what to do when Gadaffi falls. Bristly little armchair generals across the web are rattling their toy sabres in a warm puddle of petty pomposity as they condemn any that naysay them, even as we watch the real generals squabble like children over who's in charge and what are they supposed to do, anyway?
I'll come back to this in three months.