Finally. After seven weeks of bombing interrupted by short cease fires, we have a long-term truce in Gaza at last. Wonder how long-term that actually is. The previous cease fires were not pauses so much as dot-dot-dots of waiting for the next round of shelling. But right now all I know is that the party to the left of me (on the -alestine side of Isralestine) is going full swing and long may that last too.

And as the rest of you tip ice water over your heads in support of ALS research (not just because you’ve been challenged to and because you want to be part of something fun and big, of course…), some Palestinians have taken to tipping the rubble of what used to be their homes over their heads to raise awareness of Gaza.  Calling it the Rubble Bucket Challenge. And demonstrating that humour, not love, will always win over hate.

After all, love is – in a fragile break from a war that has claimed tens of thousands of innocent lives – possibly a tall order. Amo, Amas, Amat, as we learned in Latin class, is first and foremost a matter of grammar. Let alone Hamo, Hamas, Hamat (or PIJ, Hamas, Fatah, as the case may be). But humour may be the first step for those with little reason to love their enemy, whatever side of me – well, of the Gazan border of course, but I speak metaphorically – they’re on.

If you hate me, for instance, for being a symbol of divisiveness in an area that really doesn’t need any more divisions, just switch the first letters of my name – West Bank Barrier – and have a giggle.

If you can’t love your enemy, you can at least take the piss.

And given the truce forged in Cairo this week, it appears to have done the trick. Maybe tipping the contents of your hoover over your head will bring back the missing girls in Nigeria, who knows.