"Vlad The Oligarch" lyrics
Vladimir sat and gazed pensively over the rail of the Emma Maersk as his ponderous journey entered its final minutes
His departure from Miami had been as disconcerting as much of the time he spent there
Certainly, it had been lucrative enough, but the complex and often contradictory nature of this wizened old traveller had meant
That he'd never fully integrated into the American Dream
A dream which he now scoffed at as it crumbled to dust around the feet of his adopted countrymen
Despite having thrust himself like a rolled-up dollar bill into the snowy heart of capitalism he had, of late
Found himself pining for the once familiar embrace of the Party machine
His youth in the old country had been turbulent at times, but never-the-less, old habits die hard
Now, as the world rounded on his Motherland he felt compelled to return to its shores to join the ranks of his former comrades and defend her honour
Cynics pointed to the seizure of his U.S. assets as the moment where his rekindled Nationalist zeal really took hold.
But Vladimir knew that this was merely the forked tongue of Western Morality spitting its venom though the fangs of the mainstream media
If anything, swapping the extravagance of his super yacht for the honest frugality of his cabin on the Emma Maersk was a welcome change of pace
He'd become fat, as his dear Olga once had. He could see that now.
Though his return was unexpected he was determined it should be pecunious
He was grateful that the Iron Law of Oligarchy had cemented his place among the guiding hands of the strong and unified nation
He must now ensure that his hand specifically came to rest closest to her nurturing teat, so that she could be milked dry. For the good of the people of course.
The Native proletariat could be more or less relied upon to come to heel
They appreciated that the party was working in their best interests
A carefully guided education system had nurtured a sense of grateful resignation in the population
Internationally however things were more delicately balanced
He knew his standing needed to be improved, but now that other countries had caught up in the bot race, social media was far less easy to predictably manipulate
What had once been a friendly pen of online sheep now looked increasingly like a dingy battery farm full of neurotic underfed hens
For a while he'd floundered, unsure of how to go about endearing himself to the mob
Until a chance meeting with a Middle Eastern business associate of his led him to the idea of Sport
Specifically Football. The common denominator of the common people.
Of course this was hardly a new idea, many Comrades before him had tried (with varying success,)
To launder the smell of borscht from their Rubels through the Premier League
But Vladimir had always regarded the top tier of the beautiful game as a trifle vulgar
His target should be more leftfield, and his takeover more clandestine, so as to fully ingratiate him with the locals
He was also conscious of the vast cost and considerable scrutiny associated with ownership of an English club
As a result, he had been forced to cast his net further afield. Scotland had always intrigued him.
The harsh climate and even harsher women reminded him of home
The people were simple and as far as could be ascertained, relatively compliant. Although communication had at times been challenging so who could really tell?
It mattered little anyway
Their devotion to their respective teams ran deeper than any suspicions they might have over a wealthy foreign investor, no matter how shady his past
He had eventually landed on Hamilton Academical
Principally his choice had been based on the club's proximity to an international airport
However he liked the romantic nature of the name and hoped it reflected a general leaning towards learning and self-improvement within the fanbase
He was to be disappointed
Though the situation was perhaps not ideal, the wheels were in motion
From this point on he could begin to plot his rebirth from disgrace
And exile to international acceptance through the inexorable march of Scottish League One football
That just left the small matter of his homecoming
He suspected his arrival in Novorossiysk might create ripples
These would need to be contained before they became waves capable of sweeping all his hard work away before them
Hastily imbibing a fortifying slug of Comrade Vodka, he strode forth onto the jetty
His head heavy with thoughts of those whose backs had borne him on his life's journey back to this place
Vladerovsky, Christos, Sergey, even Dear Dimitri
They would likely never know the part they played
His departure from Miami had been as disconcerting as much of the time he spent there
Certainly, it had been lucrative enough, but the complex and often contradictory nature of this wizened old traveller had meant
That he'd never fully integrated into the American Dream
A dream which he now scoffed at as it crumbled to dust around the feet of his adopted countrymen
Despite having thrust himself like a rolled-up dollar bill into the snowy heart of capitalism he had, of late
Found himself pining for the once familiar embrace of the Party machine
His youth in the old country had been turbulent at times, but never-the-less, old habits die hard
Now, as the world rounded on his Motherland he felt compelled to return to its shores to join the ranks of his former comrades and defend her honour
Cynics pointed to the seizure of his U.S. assets as the moment where his rekindled Nationalist zeal really took hold.
But Vladimir knew that this was merely the forked tongue of Western Morality spitting its venom though the fangs of the mainstream media
If anything, swapping the extravagance of his super yacht for the honest frugality of his cabin on the Emma Maersk was a welcome change of pace
He'd become fat, as his dear Olga once had. He could see that now.
Though his return was unexpected he was determined it should be pecunious
He was grateful that the Iron Law of Oligarchy had cemented his place among the guiding hands of the strong and unified nation
He must now ensure that his hand specifically came to rest closest to her nurturing teat, so that she could be milked dry. For the good of the people of course.
The Native proletariat could be more or less relied upon to come to heel
They appreciated that the party was working in their best interests
A carefully guided education system had nurtured a sense of grateful resignation in the population
Internationally however things were more delicately balanced
He knew his standing needed to be improved, but now that other countries had caught up in the bot race, social media was far less easy to predictably manipulate
What had once been a friendly pen of online sheep now looked increasingly like a dingy battery farm full of neurotic underfed hens
For a while he'd floundered, unsure of how to go about endearing himself to the mob
Until a chance meeting with a Middle Eastern business associate of his led him to the idea of Sport
Specifically Football. The common denominator of the common people.
Of course this was hardly a new idea, many Comrades before him had tried (with varying success,)
To launder the smell of borscht from their Rubels through the Premier League
But Vladimir had always regarded the top tier of the beautiful game as a trifle vulgar
His target should be more leftfield, and his takeover more clandestine, so as to fully ingratiate him with the locals
He was also conscious of the vast cost and considerable scrutiny associated with ownership of an English club
As a result, he had been forced to cast his net further afield. Scotland had always intrigued him.
The harsh climate and even harsher women reminded him of home
The people were simple and as far as could be ascertained, relatively compliant. Although communication had at times been challenging so who could really tell?
It mattered little anyway
Their devotion to their respective teams ran deeper than any suspicions they might have over a wealthy foreign investor, no matter how shady his past
He had eventually landed on Hamilton Academical
Principally his choice had been based on the club's proximity to an international airport
However he liked the romantic nature of the name and hoped it reflected a general leaning towards learning and self-improvement within the fanbase
He was to be disappointed
Though the situation was perhaps not ideal, the wheels were in motion
From this point on he could begin to plot his rebirth from disgrace
And exile to international acceptance through the inexorable march of Scottish League One football
That just left the small matter of his homecoming
He suspected his arrival in Novorossiysk might create ripples
These would need to be contained before they became waves capable of sweeping all his hard work away before them
Hastily imbibing a fortifying slug of Comrade Vodka, he strode forth onto the jetty
His head heavy with thoughts of those whose backs had borne him on his life's journey back to this place
Vladerovsky, Christos, Sergey, even Dear Dimitri
They would likely never know the part they played
