Pushca presents 'A Russian State of Affairs'

After 25 days and 25 nights of celebrations in the Golden city, Madame Pushca and her jaded entourage decided to embark to the west and homeward bound. No one was entirely sure how long the journey had taken so far but all were homesick and the idea of London in the New Year spurned them onwards.

The Siberian wind harassed the travelling caravan of horse and carts and progress was agonisingly slow. Small black dots passed over the frozen tundra like fleas on the back of a giant artic wolf. Step after frozen step the foolhardy band of explorers pressed on.

When singing voices carried over the howling storm, Madame Pushca thought that fate was finally spiriting her away from this god forsaken land. Through the blizzard came not angels but red soldiers in their hundreds and the proud songs they sang were in the Bolshevik tongue. What would drive these men on in the dead of winter?

Presuming these to be the troops of her good friend Tsar Nicholas II -ruler of the Russian empire- she approached their captain and enquired where their leader could be found. “Maybe you should head for the winter palace” he snarled as he looked upon the travelling nobility. Undeterred by his lack of etiquette, she ordered her group on to St Petersburg.

Days later when they finally reached the palace they found the gates swinging from mangled hinges. Broken glass glistened on the marble stairways as they were marched by the awaiting guardsmen through the once great palace. As they entered the grand ball room they came across a long table with a serious looking man sporting a pointed beard.

“Where is my dear friend Nicholas?” demanded Madame Pushca. The bearded man rose slowly to his feet and in perfect English announced “I see you are unaware of the Russian state of affairs? Nicholas and his family…had to leave suddenly. Perhaps you and your friends would like to join us for New Years Eve? Russian style…”