No Mr Brown I expect you to die....

One weekend in Kyiv a client invited me to his house for lunch. Instead of living in the centre he had rented a large house outside the city on an island in the Dnipro.

Everything was wonderful until his landlord joined us. His landlord owned the whole island and he was a German gentleman who made you want to bomb Dresden all over again. I mentioned "samogon" and Herr Goldfinger said that he had his own distillery & proceeded to have some brought to our table by his lackeys.

He then insisted on telling me the story of how he acquired the island and how he had his own private fire brigade. He asked me if I wanted a demonstration, I politely declined; he called them anyway. Within minutes a big red Soviet fire truck appeared and started to unravel hoses until Herr Gelbfisch told them to halt.

We then moved to his house, which was a Bond villain's monstrosity of glass & steel. He had a 5-a- side football pitch in the grounds & a riverside bar. He insisted on showing us his harbour where he kept a collection of ridiculous boats. The afternoon was getting more surreal by the hour. After playing football & nearly drowning in the river we went for a jaunty ride on one of his speed boats. This makes you realise why rich people are not happy. They buy these toys and then don't understand why bouncing around on the waves doesn't make them happier. Although I have to say that I felt much happier when I got back to dry land.

We then dined at his personal "private"restaurant. By this point I had been drinking for most of the day. Herr Goldberg insisted that I finish my vodka with every toast, "trinken, trinken" he shouted.

I'd had enough. I got up and left. I was banned from the Island.