Open letter to Vlad Putin

“Dear Vlad,

“Haven’t heard from you in a while, hope you’re in good health. How’s the weather in, or rather under, the Urals?

“Is Alina with you, you lucky bastard? I’ve always fancied that girl, she’s well fit, as they say in these parts.

“Hope you aren’t cross with me. I admit I’ve been rather beastly to you over these past few days, but hey, if your friends don’t point out your mistakes, who will?

“Yes, I know you don’t make mistakes, ever. But your advisers do. Moreover, they lie to you.

“They told you it would be a cakewalk, the Ukrainian army would fold within hours. It hasn’t yet, a week later. They said Ukrainians couldn’t wait to topple the Judaeo-Nazi Banderite clique that oppresses them. Not the case: Judaeo-Nazi Zelensky is polling at 98 per cent support.

“They promised the world would respect you more if you spanked those Ukies with vacuum bombs. Instead, even your friends, like that Hungarian chap, have turned against you.

“And now those ‘experts’ whinge that you’ve painted yourself into a corner. You’re stuck in a war of attrition you can’t really win, blah-blah-blah.

“Oh, you can occupy Kiev and the rest of the Ukraine, after you’ve bombed it flat, I know you can. But what happens next? You don’t have enough soldiers to garrison every Ukrainian city, town and village. And even if you did to begin with, those Ukie guerrillas will be reducing their numbers every day. Sniper fire, bombs, mines, poison, pitchforks – you know the drill.

“Meanwhile, the garrotte of sanctions will be tightening on the Russian economic throat, with Soviet-style queues returning to shops, and the Russian natives getting restless as they push wheelbarrows full of banknotes. Even your nearest and dearest may be upset about losing their yachts, and God only knows what they’ll put into your tea.

“Anyway, you know all this better than I do. What you may not know is how to get out of this mess with your realm intact and your bloated face saved.

“Basically, you want, as we Russians put it so elegantly, both to ‘eat your fish and sit down on a dick’. (“Have your cake and eat it”, in the limp-wristed Anglo-Saxon phrase.)

“Now you’re going to find out who your friend really is, who has your interests close to heart. It’s me, and I’m going to tell you how to get out smelling like roses and whistling a merry tune.

“Remember how you resigned presidency to your stooge Medvedev in 2008? You still called the shots of course, but he stayed on as figurehead president till 2012. And then you rode your white steed back in and made yourself president for life, or damn near. You with me so far?

“Something like that can work a treat again. Here’s what you do.

“Have your doctors issue a health bulletin, saying you are – temporarily! – incapacitated. Your designated successor pro tempore then declares a cease-fire in the Ukraine and calls a snap election in Russia, which he’ll win (you don’t need me to tell you how to make sure he does).

“But you’ll have designated him specifically because you’ve struck a deal with the chap – similar to the one Yeltsyn struck with you back in 1999, but with a twist. Your successor will guarantee immunity for you and your family – that’s Step One.

“Step Two, he’ll announce that you were affected by high doses of steroids interfering – temporarily! – with your judgement. You are now being treated by the best doctors in Russia, which is to say in the world, and there’s every hope you’ll recover and enjoy a long and prosperous retirement.

“Meanwhile he’ll order withdrawal from the Ukraine and announce a new dawn of Russian democratic goodness. No to war, strife and hostility, he’ll shout at every opportunity, yes to peace, friendship and trade. You know what will happen next, don’t you?

“The Ukies will have got the message and stopped playing silly buggers with Nato and EU. The Ukraine will finlandise, Finland will ukrainise, Eastern Europe will plead undying friendship.

“Westerners, including those bloodthirsty Anglo-Saxons, will lift most sanctions. They’ll be falling over themselves buying your oil and gas, commissioning that pipeline, extending credits, transferring technology, rebuilding Russia, Lend-Lease-style. How good is that?

“Take my word for it, Westerners, all of them homos married to transsexuals, like nothing better than getting fat on the peace dividend. They won’t disarm straight away, now you’ve scared them witless, but give them a few years and they will.

“Remember how that perestroika op worked? You can do it again, better.

“Depending on how you structure that deal with your successor, you could do either of two things. You could indeed quietly enjoy your retirement and your billions, playing with Alina, your children and grandchildren (provided you know which is which). That’s what I’d do, but I’m not half the man you are.

“You want to change history, and more power to your elbow. So here’s the other option.

“Give it a couple of years, let things quiet down a bit, and then your successor can call another snap election that you’ll win (you don’t need me to tell you how). Back to the Kremlin you go, Stalin’s your uncle, Gorby’s your aunt.

“Will those Anglo-Saxons and other vermin see through that ploy? Of course they will. They may be dumb, but they ain’t stupid, as they say in that country you call Enemy Number One. But they’ll be happy to pretend they haven’t cottoned on, just to have a few more quiet years.

“Take my advice, Vlad, and you’ll win in the end. Keep me posted how you get on – and give my love to Alina, once you’ve finished giving her your own.

“As ever,

“Alex”

P.S. (To you, not Vlad). This war is a cloud with no silver lining. Still, it’s nice to have a week with Greta receding into the background, and without Boris yapping about net zero emissions.