It’s not as if he ever came from a background of any distinction. His history is entwined in the dirty little world of back alley stabbings, dealing out mean and vengeful deaths to the ‘enemies of Russia’. In his KGB past he is rumored to have been a spy, his obsession to have been untraceable poisons, and his methods to have included blackmail.
Alone, he has occupied this chair for twenty-two years. That’s twenty-two years of absolute power.
That’s twenty-two years in a bubble – twenty-two years only hearing what he wants to hear: flattery, concurrence, justification.
For most of those years no-one has suggested he is wrong: no-one dares. The few who have been brave enough to withstand the lethal gale of his power are long gone – consigned to oblivion in all but the minds of those they left behind.
Their minds, and his.
Each new atrocity committed in his name, every life his actions have caused to end before its time is arrayed before him on the long table while his sycophants watch from far off, wondering how they strayed so close to the flame, wondering by what means they can ever escape.
He is sixty-nine now. Do they want the chaos he will leave them when the bubble of that black heart bursts at last? Will he have anything to leave?
There are good reasons why civilized, democratic countries limit occupation of the highest office to one, maybe two periods of four or five years. The longer one person remains in power the thicker the walls of his mediaeval castle keep will grow, the fewer the people who will be allowed to oppose him, the more isolated and deluded he will become.
Feeling all those atrocities committed by his hand festering in his brain, weighed down by the burdens of his advancing years and ever more anxious to justify it all by the execution of his Grand Plans of Empire his mind becomes deformed, his health begins to fail And more and more he sees the urgency of his mission.
Vladimir Putin, dangerously insane. Will he burn the whole world? Or will someone have the courage to stop him?