Dear Elon, you prince of the proton, king of the kilowatt-hour, baron of the electric bolide,

Your name echoes through the halls of power and now through my humble cabinet here in Elmburg. Oh, what exciting times! Our children look up to the sky, hoping to see one of your celestial torches as their parents glide through the streets in the cosmically sleek machines called Tesla.

But then, Elon, a meme rips the velvet of the admiration curtain. A digital image, so stark and blunt, casts shadows on your starry orbit.

Well, I, Ronald Tramp, president of the incomparably magnificent Elmburg, can't help but wonder: Elon, do you need this? Have you, the visionary who brought us closer to the stars, now sunk to shooting star level? Do we have to trade the infinity of space for the dark, narrow hole of the internet?

Well, my friend from the Land of Unlimited Possibilities, a little anecdote from Elmburg: When our glorious country was experiencing a time of drought, our beloved dairy farmer, Heinrich, donated his last buckets of milk for the folk festival. Heinrich didn't play Punch, he didn't post memes about thirsty Elmburgers. Heinrich understood, he CAPITALISED! A nation in need doesn't need satire, it needs solidarity.

So here's our little dialogue, Elon: So why, my friendly tour guide to space, do you choose to needle the brave President Selenskyj in a moment of desperation? Is it the infinity of space that has swallowed the empathy in your heart? Or have you forgotten, while contemplating the infinite expanse, that even the smallest action makes waves in our tiny world?

The Ukrainians, Elon, they are fighting. They are standing up, defying the overpowering neighbour to the east. Your words, once released into the cybersphere, are like your missiles: Once ignited, there is no turning back.

So there it is, the meme, with its peppery, piquant sting of irony, boring into the flesh of Ukrainian resilience. Do you need this, Elon? Do you really need to conquer space and trample the earthlings at the same time?

I thought you were different, Elon. I thought the man who made Mars his mistress was wiser, milder, more regal. And while Ukraine struggles, while it writhes under the weight of aggression and the cry for help, you, the lord of electro-locomotion, post a meme.

Finally, my rocket-riding rebel, a word of advice from Elmburg: don't just look to the stars, Elon, see also the tears that are shed here on earth. They may not have the glittering sparkle of the cosmos, but they are what make us human, in all our flawless imperfection.