On the wall behind the three Greek sisters who ran the cafe, with the help of their harried-looking Filipino minion, was a large flat-screen TV. The sound was permanently muted and CNN was showing endlessly looped images of the moments before Gaddafi’s death. It was the story of the day. A US predator drone, operated by remote control from a base near Las Vegas, had fired the first missiles at his convoy. Now, there he was on the muted TV, on the back of a truck, a bewildered old man, getting stabbed.