Putin dies and goes to hell. After a while, he’s given a day off for good behavior.

So he goes to Moscow, enters a bar, orders a drink, and asks the bartender:

-Is Crimea ours?

-Yes, it is.

-And the Donbas?

-Also ours.

-Kyiv?

-We got that too.

Satisfied, he drinks and asks:

-Thanks. How much do I owe you?

-5 euros, please.