Barack Obama's Diary: De-trousered by Putin

Dear Diary: Over our breakfast of hot sorghum porridge Vlad suggested we go for a swim in the  hotel's heated pool before the day's proceedings began.  I should have known better. Apparently,  Vlad is something of a symbol of virility among the ladies of China. 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 unable to exit the water with any semblance of dignity. This had occurred before, when Marv Nicholson came to my rescue with a towel. "Marv!" I cried tremulously, hoping he had made provision for a repeat occurence. He had. 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. Putin replied with a   fountain of water from his lips and a Bronx cheer. Crude, impudent man. But enough about me.