Barack Obama's Diary: bare-butted with Putin

Dear Diary: Over our breakfast of hot sorghum porridge from South Africa, Vlad suggested we go for a bracing swim in the  hotel's heated pool before the day's APEC proceedings.  I should have known better. Apparently,  Vlad is something of an icon of virility among the ladies of China. I should have expected an immediate attempt at showing off. No sooner had we entered the pool, than I felt hands closing around my swim shorts and they were ripped violently downwards. There I was in the pool, now unable to exit the water with any semblance of dignity.
This had occurred at a previous conference, when Marv Nicholson came to my rescue with a towel. "Marv!" I cried tremulously, hoping he had made provision for a repeat performance. He had. May all the Blessings of Gaia be bestowed upon him. He slipped a towel into the water close to me and I was able to exit the pool, towel dripping water, but with a small remnant of dignity.
"Just you wait, Vlad Putin!" I hissed as I passed him. "Just you wait!" "Putin replied with a   fountain of water from his lips and a Bronx cheer. Crude, impudent man. But enough about me.