by Alisa Louse
While the vast majority of Russians are lucky, kept safe by their selfless ruling class, in turn kept safe by their even more good, never-self-having, saviour lord Putin, some Russians need to go into the jaws of hell in order to serve the motherland.
The sons and daughters of Russia’s oligarchs, the patriotic pillars upon which order rests, know that as they approach school age they must go into self-imposed exile. They, with only their chauffeurs, housemaids, private tutors, household staff and bodyguards to accompany them, must trudge up the stairs of bleak private jets. Landing in decadent western swamps as New York, California, Paris, London, Amsterdam and Switzerland, they must eke out an existence, separated from their ideological nemeses by only the walled compounds of their parents’ mansions.
At private schools across the western world, you can guarantee there is at least one Russian oligarch’s child at the back of each history class, behind their bodyguards, trying to see through the mists of falsification. At the back of each geography class, flanked by fictitious maps still indicating that THE Ukraine is a country, they do their best to work out which stately homes within an easy reach of Chelsea are up for sale. At the back of each art class, pottery wheels blazing with compulsory ceramic sex toys, there they are, trying to get to the poisonous root of western decadence which has lead all the scum around them to being so gay.
They hate this world and everyone in it, these poor Russian teenagers far from home. All they yearn for is a cup of hot borscht served to them by a twenty five year old model in their Mercedes as they return from an exclusive trance club at 8am to their Moscow region mansion. This is the only fitting life for any patriotic Russian oligarch aged 11-79, all Russians agree.
And yet they must stay in the west. They must stare out on the world they hate from behind tinted windows. Some must even pretend to be gay to further penetrate their enemies. Some Russians must stay there all their lives, an act of self-sacrifice unmatched since the soviet spy Stierlitz went to Nazi Germany to cavort with the Berlin elite.
Even after their return many are eager to go back west, such is their iron will to understand the enemy’s decadent way of life better. It is hard to imagine the pain these willing emigres are going through while serving their country.
But one thing is certain. They all long to come back. As soon as appropriate financial arrangements are made for them and room found in the barracks of Russia’s new barons, the gated communities west of Moscow, they only want to be home. They come bearing tales of horror from dog salons, boutiques, michelin-starred restaurants and members-only lounges. But they are back now, back safe in their motherland with their loyal, Russian serfs close to their hearts, but also kept at a good, safe distance.
Alisa Louse is both a billionaire and martyr. She was forced to study abroad. While walking off an audition stage in California one day she decided that acting wasn’t for her, that her suffering must end, and that it was time to return to Russia. As if ordered by the divine will of Putin her return transformed her life. Having lived in the sun-soaked, millionaire allowance penury of Los Angeles she returned to Moscow and an internship in her father’s state pensions department. Within three months Alisa had performed so well she had become her current patriotic billionaire self. There was no looking back and a non-disclosed state media management position beckoned.