(3 minute read)
I had the unique privilege of securing an exclusive interview - fey of fey - with the President of the Russian Federation, Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin. The known. As the only western journalist and columnist who managed to do this I feel deeply ashamed, but I will overcome it. What impressed me the most from our meeting? That he was short, that he wore a "Brut" aftershave cologne and that he knew Greek fluently. A great historical interview. I am passing it on to you as is:
– Mr. Putin, good morning. Thank you for accepting our invitation. Thank you!
– Mr. Tsakhovich, good morning. You are welcome. My pleasure.
– Although that's not exactly my name, but anyway. . I'll start with the first question. Are you ready; It will be difficult!
– (Smiles) Yes! I'm ready.
– So then... what's your favorite color?
– Ah! The rozuli.
- Favorite food;
– Blinis with cottage cheese and lamb stew!
– Yes... but you told me two foods... Which of the two is your favorite?
- Both!
– Oh, Mr. Vladimir, don't steal. I want one!
- Come on... The stew!
(From somewhere in the background, my secretary gives me a hint. She informs me that we still only have 2 minutes of time at our disposal. The AEL match in Igoumenitsa is about to start.)
– Mmm… favorite movie?
– Ah! Stu Bernie's Crazy Weekend and Slava Zukerman's Liquid Sky.
- Come on! I liked her too!
– Yes yes… she is good!
– Another difficult question. What star sign are you;
– Libra!
– Libra huh?
- Yes... we are sensitive scales...
- Yes... sure... (I say this very ironically to touch him) Last little question, Vladimir, don't hold me back, you also have work to do... Why are you killing people?
– (Annoyed) What do you mean sir?
– Stop now sir... why are you killing people? (I see movement behind the microphones. His bodyguards are talking on the intercom. Two more enter the room from his office
- Well... (It seems to me that he is red with anger. Did I - I ask myself - crossed some boundaries? Did I violate some unwritten journalistic good manners? Did I cause a diplomatic incident? Did...)
– …
– I'm sorry bro, I didn't hear what you said... I was talking to myself.
– I say… that we are not killing people… we are liberating… territories belonging to Mother Russia… with a Special Operation…
– (I cut him off) Well, are you an idiot? Do you work for us? Are you doing well?
– … (He looks surprised. He doesn't say something but I think he wants to say something. A bodyguard, right buffalo, I see him grab his revolver)
-Anyway... but it doesn't cut it, man... bullshit... well... last question because we also have the match... (I'm clearly irritated). If you could have a super power… say you could turn invisible, say, or something like that… what would you choose?
– (Calmer) Good question… Let me think about it…
– President, but quickly because we also have the match.
– Who are you playing with?
– With Thesprotos.
- Who is this;
- That's it now... Talk about the super power, let's finish.
– To be invisible!
– Another! I said that.
- Then…
(They mean to me that the match has started)
– Mr Putin, thank you for your time.
- I thank you too! (He said and took out a sandwich from his jacket pocket)
– What is it with? (I asked - and well - indifferently. I had been cut off by the lord. I was hungry. I had been offered a contractor almond in the lobby of the Presidential Palace but I was afraid to take it in case it was filled with plutonium)
– Jamon of Spain.
– Shall I take a bite?
– (Embarrassed) Uh… you know… I'm not used to sharing my food…
– (I grabbed it from him) Is it multi-seeded?
- Yes.
– (Dressed:) Do you have friends? Let's say for some beer with friends, are you going? Who are you with in the world cup?
– To go back in time!
- What; (I asked, furrowing my brows in wonder)
– She would like to have super power... To go back in time!
- Bro, how did you do it... That's the only thing that would save you... The sandwich is good... Is it with Dijon?
– Yes… good huh?
– (I don't say anything. . I chew slowly. Men. I look deep into his cold Russian eyes. I swallow and tell him:) You are a very fit boy… You are a very sexy boy… Dukey! Do you know;
– Thank you… (Blushing at the compliment like a schoolboy) I've been told that before!
– Yes huh?… What can I say, man… (I say this very disgusted) Anyway… That's it!
- Be well! (He got up from his armchair and offered me his hand for a handshake)
I didn't give it. I was obsessed with mustard. I gave a nod of farewell, so to speak, and said, smoking the last bite:
- Call me a taxi..
He took out his cell phone, an old Nokia, typed in some cold Russian numbers, and put the phone to his cold Russian ear. "Moscow Radio Taxi.. Please wait.” He raised his cold Russian gaze to my boss and said apologetically:
"I'm waiting"