Paper straws contain toxic chemicals and are just as bad as plastic

did not have long to work out who had killed him. But he had long enough. He must have twigged.

It can’t have been more than a few seconds between the explosion aboard the otherwise reliable Embraer Legacy 600 executive jet, and the moment the Russian thug blacked out in his vertiginous acceleration to earth; and yet in that instant I am certain that he knew with perfect clarity what had happened.

He knew whose hidden hand was sending him 28,000 ft down, to be immolated with the rest of his companions in a fireball in the countryside of the Tver region north of — and then on downwards, of course, for the shade of Prigozhin: down, down to Hades and the Tartarean pit below.

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