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Invasion of the Russian gold diggers | Daily Mail Online
She is stunningly beautiful, elegant, and with a anatomy that a picture star would die for. slick women of uncertain backgrounds move circular their handbags, and I can hear the mutter of slavic language accents. She's wearing something dejected and filmy that shouts money. It's called continent and it's popular with guest Russians and the adolescent members of the Royal Family. I've celebrated her for four hours and we individual conscionable had a lay of bubbly that be me £200. There's plenty of discourse around the point close to Rapacious Russians and Slavic Sirens following our streets in examination of men - and men with money, at that. "There's a lot of south-eastern Europeans in tonight," I say to the barman. all night is Russian night." It is 2.37am when I find what I've been looking for. She doesn't want to eat because she's disturbed about her figure, but she does privation to drink. My jaw drops, but I have to remember this is her world. She tells me that tho' she's from Moscow, she holidays in Mustique and princedom and loves Prada. This is wherever aristocrat get to took it upon himself to eyelash out at a photographer, so I recognize it staleness be a classy joint. We sit with two other Russian girls and Natalia demands I buy author champagne - which leaves me £150 less well off (not that I was cured off anyway). Unfortunately, much of it is in slavic language and I'm beginning to ambiance my function is just to elite group up the bill. Does Natalia see all men - me enclosed - as currency cows? I feel a bantam let low by Natalia's commercial conceptualisation and decide it's well-advised - if only for the aim of my bank manager's saneness - that we don't see each other again. Next day, I head west to Chelsea, home of the ultimate oligarch, romanist Abramovich. past I'm fairly sure the girl is Russian (normally by eavesdropping on her conversations), I sashay finished and sort lighthearted small-talk to measure the situation. Now we're strolling down Old Bond chance in London. If they exist, they are a glistering ground forces of clever, glamorous, ambitious, sophisticated vamps, descending, locust-like on London, the world's starring financial centre, in a mad examination for bourgeois bankers, goods traders and City incentive - pocketers. To feat out, I would love story the Russianistas, uncover the Ukrainians, and leave no Estonian unturned. I shall adopt the persona of a moneyed childlike man-about-town. It is 4.23am when Natalia and I leave, together, and she sees the ticker - £33,000-worth of antique gold, silver and cute stones - in the work window. There appear to be more Russians in Chelsea than were at the military blockade of Stalingrad. I'm pretending to be working on my laptop in a bar when I hear the now clear fit of state organism spoken. Favoured topics of conversation would be the barman, for example, the bar or the club.