The Senility of Vladimir P

‘Me? Look, I’m the president now. Put a smile on your fucking face, Vova, and congratulate me.’

‘Go and fuck yourself, Kostya.’

cannily keeping the common Muscovite happy with a string of populist measures that did nothing for the city’s future but cheered everyone up with a few extra kopecks in their pocket.

‘My blessing?’ Vladimir frowned. ‘Am I priest?’