Vladimir Putin’s ban on Western foods continues, with gaggles of skinny-jeans wearing supermodels stalking around supermarkets, slapping “NYET!” stickers over imported smallgoods. Which is easy for them, the bitches, because they don’t eat anything anyway. Spare a thought for poor Ivana Hamburgerov, though, restricted to a diet of black rye butterbrots, boiled eggs and kvass. No wonder they invented vodka. Back in the 80’s all the Russkies wanted was a pair of Levi’s, now a sniff of democracy has them marching down the street in their 501’s demanding more happy meals. All I know is that I wouldn’t want to f*ck with him. He has a tiger. And lasers for eyes. He may also have a point.
Putin is not just giving burger-lovin’ Obama the sturdy middle digit, he is attempting something that every country on Earth should want, and that’s food self sufficiency (followed closely by a ban on anything Kardashian). Putting aside all of his many (many) flaws for a second, isn’t this a great idea? If you’ve got the land, why not grow your own food? People have, literally, become too soft to catch and kill (and grow) their own. But nyet Mr Putin. His bare-chested antics ostensibly make him the laughing stock of the century, but this man is canny. He knows Russians admire strength.
To this day, I wish our own pea-hearted Prime Minister had carried through with his threat to “shirt-front” the Putinator. Vlad would have impaled the elephant-eared loser. Never forget: not only is the man a master of the fighting arts, wrestles bears before breakfast, and barebacks the wild brumbies of the Russian steppe, he was raised on a diet of Cold War cornflakes. 
