You know how it is. Sometimes we get so swamped by petty everyday concerns that we forget what’s really important in life.
I know it’s a lame excuse for my having missed your birthday yet again the other day, and I hope you aren’t upset with me. As your friend and admirer, I think you’re the last person in the world I’d ever wish to upset.
Speaking of people who upset you, serendipity or what? Your birthday coincides with the anniversary of Anna Politkovskaya’s death in 2011. Remember her?
She was that annoying pest who kept saying nasty things about you, calling you a fascist, blaming you for mass murder and so forth? She was, to use Saki’s expression, one of those human flies that buzz.
Why, she even wrote a libellous book about you, bringing all those nasty things together under one cover. So you had her swatted like a fly, or “whacked”, as you describe such acts so elegantly.
Good on you, mate. Show me a man who doesn’t envy your masculine power, and I’ll show you a liar. At least Peter Hitchens is honest about his affection for you. Why, he positively swoons every time he sees a picture of your bare torso.
I especially like the one of you half-naked, with a rifle in your hand, riding a horse. That’s my Vlad, I think every time I see it. The muscles are getting a bit flabby, but by God they’re still there – amazing in a man no longer in the first flush of youth.
You’re five feet of flabby muscle, exuding testosteronal strength and issuing with your very flesh an implicit warning to all your detractors.
Speaking of detractors, such as Politkovskaya, Nemtsov and all those dozens of naysaying hacks and politicos you’ve had whacked, only a weak-kneed liberal would hold that against you.
How can a strong leader remain strong if he allows those vermin to undermine his authority? In fact, I know many British conservatives who wish we had a strong, decisive leader like you, rather than the wishy-washy, namby-pamby, shilly-shallying bunch we’re cursed with.
Just think how much more smoothly Mrs May’s tenure would run if she could whack Boris, Jacob and the entire editorial staff of The Daily Mail? And then, while she’s at it, shut down all opposition media, print, broadcast and electronic? Think of the respect she’d command from the general public, other world leaders and Peter Hitchens.
As it is, she’s muddling through, waiting to be ousted by the first opponent blessed with what our Spanish friends call C.O. Jones (I’ll let you figure this one out).
Also, no Western leader I can think of, with the possible exception of your friend Silvio Berlusconi, has been able to duplicate your ingenious scheme for protecting public finances.
They all squander money on useless social programmes, medicine, education and some such, keeping whatever little is left in their countries’ treasuries. How stupid is that?
You know and I know and every conservative knows that private individuals can look after their money much better than the state can. Extrapolating ever so slightly, one could see that, likewise, private individuals can do a much better job looking after public money too.
You’ve surrounded yourself with such frugal men, who have collectively transferred more than a trillion dollars into their Western bank accounts. That way they protect public finances from both governmental profligacy and the traditionally volatile Russian politics.
Fair enough, you’ve also helped yourself to the odd hundred billion or so, but the money is much safer in your hands than it would be in the hands of those Russian losers who live on £100 a month.
I also admire you for the way you’ve brought those Ukies to heel – and I’m not the only one. You’ve shown the world how to deal with jumped up upstarts who have ideas beyond their station. Independence indeed. Who do they think they are?
Just look at those Spanish wimps who’ve done nothing to stop that nonsense in Catalonia, other than bust a few heads with police batons. You showed how such things ought to be done by whacking 10,000 Ukies with air raids, multiple missile launchers, heavy artillery and AA rockets.
Admittedly one of those brought down a Dutch airliner, but hell. There’s no war without collateral damage, as you’ve so ably demonstrated in Syria. But at least the whole world knows not to mess with the strong leader you are, Vlad.
Actually, there’s little I can say about you that wasn’t said on TV by your Propagandist-In-Chief Dmitry Kisilev, whom some noxious insects describe as ‘Putin’s Goebbels’:
“On 7 October Vladimir Putin turned 65. His life is all about serving Russia… In the West, people have ambivalent feelings about Putin, as always. Those outside the sphere of professionally malevolent politics and invariably venomous media are well disposed to Putin. For example, there are congratulatory graffiti in Barcelona, Berlin and Paris. And British designers presented him with a ‘Putin’ motorcycle jacket… The whole world attaches to Putin its hopes for peace and prosperity.”
Even Peter Hitchens couldn’t have put it better. Since I pin my own hopes for peace and prosperity on you, Vlad, I’m going to look for one of those jackets, even though I don’t ride a motorcycle. Nor do I have any ambitions of posing like a male answer to Lady Godiva – but only because my musculature is no match for yours.
And yes, I’m going to roam London with my trusted spray paint, writing on every wall “Putin = Peace + Prosperity”, just like your fans in Barcelona, Berlin and Paris.
So here are my belated good wishes, Vlad. Many happy returns – and many more whacked naysayers and detractors. Keep showing the world what a strong leader should be like.
(By the way, the other day I overheard Corbyn say something about you I can’t repeat in polite company.)