Clearly the man drinks a lot of Red Bull. Sorry, we all like to think that we’re better than that, don’t we? The stark truth just so happens to be that dear old Vlad the shirtless horse rider really does have wings. Somehow he’s been hiding them. Perhaps they’re detachable or something or he’s well practiced in the use of body doubles. It would definitely explain the baggy pyjamas he insists on fighting in so often. The real question is not why we can’t see them, it’s what are they like? I don’t know about you but I very much doubt that they’re angelic and feathery.
I’m relatively certain that we’re all about to advance down the leathery route of thought (and that just sounded so very wrong. Especially in such close proximity to Putin. So, collective shudder everyone. And breathe). Surely Putin can only have the leathery variety of flight stimulator (enabler? There’s only so many times I can say the word wing)? He’s definitely a closer relation to the bat than the fluffy pigeon. Of all the birds I could have chosen why did I opt for pigeon? There’s probably some sort of psychiatric analysis that we certainly don’t have time for going down here (or I’ve slipped into hopeless tangents again).
Or it could be some throwback to the age of dinosaurs. For some reason I always want to say velociraptor when thinking of the airborne prehistoric scaly monsters but I know in my heart (and you know, thanks to Google) that I’m grievously wrong. Obviously it’s the pterodactyl. They even have the same first letter and everything. It’s silent alliteration pointing the way to truth (as per usual). Essentially, what you need to take away from my message today is that Putin has spliced himself with a fossil and now he’s going to take to their air and make war on the drones with his mighty judo skills. Be very afraid.