Dreaming of the Cold War

I’m thoroughly enjoying the playground spat between the USA and Russia. The Americans have banned Russians with dodgy human rights records from visiting the country, but have no such objection to travellers from Iran, Pakistan or Somalia dropping by, no matter how psychopathic they might be. In retaliation, the Russkies have voted to halt their most valuable export to the USA – that of small Russian children, who are used by middle class Americans as mantelpiece ornaments and garden furniture. I assume that adopting a little black child from, say, Malawi, is now considered a little de trop.

Whatever, there seems to be a yearning, on both sides, for this row to be ratcheted up as far as it can possibly go, with tit for tat acts of spite flung hither and thither. I think they both miss the comforting certainties of the Cold War, an agreeably simpler time. It does seem to me that the Russians are more sinned against than sinning in this particular dispute. I fear they were also more right than wrong in their stance over Syria.