Even class distinctions broke down. One newspaper reported a fan spraying beer over the windscreen of a Mercedes and yelling that he was so happy he didn’t care what happened to him. At which point the driver leapt out, hugged him, clambered with him onto the roof of the car and started dancing. It sounds like a ridiculous propaganda tale – and perhaps it is – but on that night perhaps it was possible.
On Manezhnaya Square the Russian anthem was sung continuously for hours. T-shirts were printed bearing the words (is there a greater anthem in Europe? Listen to Paul Robeson singing the old Soviet version and tell me it doesn’t send a tingle down your spine). Motorcyclists put on a hastily arranged show with the synchronised growling of engines and release of smoke. One rider, supported only by his hands, zipped along clapping his feet together above the handlebars. Fireworks were let off. A Russia scarf was wrapped around the neck of the Pushkin statue.
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