So I had this incredibly hot Russian girlfriend in Moscow, Natasha.

A graduate in chemistry from the Mendeleyev Institute (an elite school on par with MIT or Stanford), alcoholic, nymphomaniac, chain-smoker, brooding intellectual, fiercly patriotic, green-eyed man-killer, right out of a James Bond movie.

Tells me that she also worked as an English translator for the 1980 Olympics in Moscow, which broght her into contact with the KGB, who recruited her as an “intelligence agent”, i.e., to obtain information from foreigners using all means at her disposal.

Tells me they dressed her up in a black evening dress and jewellry (which she had to sign for) and set her on a group of “international drug runners” an an Intourist hotel.

But, she says, she was young and insecure and could not go through with it, handed in the dress and jewels and retired from service.

All I can say is that it’s a good thing she did, because the Cold War might have ended differently: she would have gotten stealth tehnology, missile sites and any other secrets out of anyone she set herself to…”Go ahead…copy the files, help yourself to the microfilm is the second drawer…just let me sleep for ten minutes…please!”