In my office today again was filmed some high-spiritual Russian series - not that "The Curve Against Gorbatho", not that "The wide-spread legs of Dusi Raspriskina". I stood, I smoked, I watched the process: they shouted "Motor!", a crazy mass woman ran, a BNV ha-six (white color - probably a melodrama, not a militant) - and here suddenly the roar of a wounded bison is spread: "Achtizhopthoucherekrommylo!!!". Oh, I think, it’s a bit like – probably about the bandits! But the process stops - and the screams begin. It turns out that the picture was parked (completely according to the rules) car, but the owner could not be found, despite the "Call, if it interferes..." on the glass - it turns out, the man stupidly forgot the phone in the ashes. Then the filmmakers promptly turned Belarus into the Russian Federation, sticking the numbers with imitation of Russian number marks. And it has to happen that the car enthusiast approached his "cockpit" unnoticed and saw that the car is no longer quite his.