I landed from New York last week to find Britain in meltdown. London hasn't been this much fun since the poll tax riots. I had to drop in on the Houses of Parliament to do a tech rehearsal for my show there tomorrow, Bussmann's Holiday – the first X-rated comedy to be performed inside the Palace of Westminster. Its subject is WikiLeaks's best exposé yet, combined with aspersions cast on the cause of Kevin Spacey's late-night injuries, and the thought: "Imagine if Bob Geldof wasn't such a Jeremy Hunt."

Security at parliament was tense. A female cop went through my gym clothes "looking for banners" that could cause offence. I thought it wise not to mention the show, as Westminster was on fire, and not metaphorically. Outside parliament, the winter air was crisp with the crackle of skulls against truncheons. Inside, thousands of police limbered up sternly to defend the building – a crazed, Marquis de Sade vision of gold leaf, carved wood and endless paintings of prototype faghag Queen Elizabeth I telling jokes about what Sir Walter Raleigh picked up in Venezuela to men in tights, before everyone laughs and throws their merkins in the air. Now that it, and every other institution, has its secrets exposed on the daily Wikiblurt, the mood is high again – it's a new golden age for Britain.

Good timing for my show, as the particular WikiLeak connected with it combines high comedy and war crime. From the Guardian – "WikiLeaks cables: Consult us before using intelligence to commit war crimes, US tells Uganda."

The leaked cable centres on one man, Ugandan military intelligence chief Colonel Charles Otema. The US had given Otema's boys not just intelligence, but millions in cash and military hardware. What was Otema supposed to be doing with all that? Stopping one man, the fake prophet Joseph Kony – accidental subject of my book, The Worst Date Ever – who has kidnapped somewhere between 20,000 and 66,000 children and youngsters over 25 years. The phrase "somewhere between" hints at an utter shambles. The international community allowing it to go on for 25 years hints at the kids being either impossible to find, or black.

It's a fantastic story, about huge bets placed on the wrong horse time and time again. The lure of the three-legged nag, AKA the Ugandan army, to donor governments baffles me. When I asked army spokesman Paddy Ankunda for an explanation of one particular kidnapping, when 139 schoolgirls were taken from St Mary's College, Aboke, in one night in 1996 – a night the army admitted it knew Kony's men were coming for the girls – he told me: "It was a long time ago." That's up there with "it's getting late" – which is what the army said the night of yet another St Mary's kidnap attempt, when they were shown where Kony's men were camping, and asked if they wouldn't mind awfully arresting them.

The hunt goes beyond failure. When it looked like the kids might get saved via peace talks, the army hurriedly bombed the peace talk venues. When a bunch of unarmed priests successfully rescued children, the army shot at the priests, beat them up and set fire to the hut they were in before they could rescue any more. The Ugandan army didn't just fail to find Kony; they spent their military budget training rapist militia and running their own mining concessions in Congo. The poll tax rioters were called amoral, and they only looted the natural resources of Dixons on Charing Cross Road.

What did the US do? Send more money. They paid a bent army millions to look for a bloke they hadn't managed to find in 25 years.

It wasn't just the US. The UK government, currently jettisoning the concept of learning rather than cough up nine grand a student, has shelled out nigh on a billion quid to Otema's boss, the Ugandan president Yoweri Museveni. Unsurprisingly, the president is not averse to turning round and saying: "Oh no! How did all these kids get so poor and kidnapped? Send more money immediately!"

I don't blame Museveni. He'd be an idiot not to cash in. I blame Geldof and Bono, who have ennobled the concept of throwing money at victims of war rather than taking a good hard look at the people behind the war. The victims are trapped in the middle, hiding. I maintain Bono flies round the world making Africans cry. "How are you," he says, arriving at the hut of someone who didn't have time to flee. "I'm fine," replies the African, politely. "But you're not fine," corrects Bono, "you've got Aids." By the time the millionaire pop star leaves the shack, the African is in tears.

Fortunately the tide seems to be turning. The US has cobbled together an action plan to stop Kony, and after the last Ugandan army-led attempt, this one will be under public scrutiny. Amnesty International and UK MPs have tabled an early day motion urging Britain to offer assistance.

Meanwhile, I'll be doing the show for an audience of MPs and Lords tomorrow in the Houses of Parliament, assuming they haven't burned to the ground. Ask your MP to sign up to Early Day Motion 1171, titled Uganda and the Lord's Resistance Army. Go to theyworkforyou.com to find your MP's details.

Charlie Brooker is away.