Once upon a time Vladimir Vladimirovich™ Putin was sitting at the formidable desk in his formidable Kremlin office, ringing up various Russian elementary schools on his Presidential Telephone™. "Hey there," said Vladimir Vladimirovich™, after punching in the next number from a thick directory. "Excuse me, but have got any children in your school with Georgian surnames? You know, dze-something or shvili-whatsis? No? Not a single one? I hardly believe that! Where could they have got to?" Vladimir Vladimirovich™ became positively vexed and began to assume a fetal position. Then suddenly the mighty Presidential Doors™ of his office burst open and into the room ran the Director of the Federal Security Service, Nikolai Platonovich Patrushev. "Yo, bro, what do you know!" he announced with consternation. "A group of armed terrorist have just hijacked one of our planes! It's headed for the Kremlin like a kamikaze bat out of hell." Slowly, Vladimir Vladimirovich™ raised his head with interest and came to attention. "Did you say kamikaze?" asked Vladimir Vladimirovich™. "Yes? Oh, that's one of them for sure." He reached for a sheet of Presidential Proclamation Paper™, scribbled on it, stamped it furiously and shoved it at Nikolai Platonovich. "Take this, call the paddy wagon and have him deported right back to Georgia with the rest of those little bastards." Nikolai Platonovich was stupefied.