The Russians are coming! In fact, they're already here, in Dubai, in very large numbers.
My mole at the Madinat Jumeirah complex tells me that, because of school holidays back in mother Russia, the two big hotels on the site are completely sold out, with 95 per cent occupancy by Russians, or at least guests from countries of the former Soviet Union.
Not only that, he also says that about 70 per cent of Madinat annual revenue comes from the same area of the world. These are not official figures, I should stress, but informed "guestimates" by an insider. And the Russians are certainly prepared to splash the cash.
I heard a story of one Russian lady who wanted to ensure a bit of privacy on the beach for herself and her considerable entourage - children, domestics and security staff.
Those little beach tents that the Madinat does, basically just a wooden platform and four poles with a bit of silk thrown over the top, cost Dh1,000 (US$272) per day to hire.
"I'll take 10, for the next five days," she said, handing over Dh50,000 in cash up front.
With temperatures fast approaching zero in Moscow, she must think it's worth paying up for the last bit of sunshine in several months. But if she's that well off, she's equally likely to be back in Dubai next month.
I haven't written anything about football for some time, largely because my team, Tottenham Hotspur, haven't really had that much to crow about.
OK, we did beat Manchester United at Old Trafford a few weeks back, and we are fifth in the Premier League, but the performances under the new manager Andre Villas Boas have been lacking in quality and conviction, especially the last awful display against lowly Wigan.
That, at least, is the consensus of the band of Tottenham fans that I join most weeks to watch the game. Known as "Spurs Al Arab" because we first met at the Jumeirah Beach Hotel in the shadow of the Burj Al Arab, after many nomadic months we have at last found a venue worthy of our aspirations.
The sports lounge in the Arabian Court at the Royal Mirage hotel is certainly the poshest place in which I've ever watched football, and sometimes feels a little unreal, but it's a treat to shout the lads on amid the velvet, gold and chandeliers, looked after by the excellent operations manager, Jimmy Jose.
Maybe the macho masters of the universe at Goldman Sachs have got something about them after all. Dramatic pictures last week of superstorm Sandy in New York showed the whole of lower Manhattan blacked out - apart from Goldman's global HQ at 200 West Street.
A friend of mine has an apartment in nearby Battery Park, and he confirmed the unerring wisdom of the "sacks of gold" executives.
"When they moved in, they decided the basement wasn't really the best place for an emergency generator, and put it somewhere around the 23rd floor. That's why they deserve to be paid squillions, I suppose."