“Blue is sky and yellow is wheat!”

“Nope! Yellow is sun! Blue is water!”

They glared each other down from opposite ends of the table, ready to fight. Of course, they’d need a running start—the table was so long it crossed three international time zones.

Ready, steady, GO!

Somewhere at the epicentre of that domestic warzone they suddenly noticed something. It was Putin entering the room.

When they finally left said room, they were kicking something around that looked suspiciously like somebody’s very tiny balls. And they were no longer incensed by one another’s stance on the flag debate.