The Continuity KGB were caught rotten when they went interfering in the US presidential election, and Moscow is trying to sneakily nick bits of the countries next door like a greedy turfcutter moving barbed wire fences in the bog.
But the worst of all was when the Kremlin hacked into Cusack Park, Croke Park, Clones and Páirc Uí Chaoimh.
Don't mess with the Association, Vladimir, or we will give you an automatic 12-week ban. Who do you think you are kidding Mr Putin?
There we were in Cusack Park, in Ennis, for Kerry and Clare, when the Russians tried to influence the result of the match with their Kremlin gremlins. The scoreboard in Cusack Park was electronic and therein lies the problem.
There was a time, long ago, fadó, fadó, as the storytellers say, when men called Maors placed the big painted timber numbers carefully into slots beside the names of the teams. Scores were recorded manually. It took several Maors to lift the square numbers in to place.
The work was hard, especially on the big fast-ground hurling days, when the scoring was high and I am told the softest job of all was in the Ulster football championship.
Maor is the Irish word for official (pronounced oh-fee-shell). Maors were usually men who were kept down at work and at home. It has been said that one Maor was seen wearing an apron and another had to take the cap off his own egg.
Scutters Maors, or some of their number, had to be fed and found. Most brought their own 'hang' sandwiches with scutters of brown sauce, but the main men were fed in the best of hotels. More were found in the pub, where ever-generous turnstile operators were buying all around them. Top shelf for the Maor and a Mi-Wadi for Herself. Those stalwarts have all had their minute's silence. Gone but not forgotten.
The long-dead Maors were deadly men for hotel steak. Sirloins were very scarce and dear back in the days when the only dinner out was at a wedding, or the annual GAA social when men with historic triumvirates of big bellies ate hillocks of mash for what was known as soakage. Hungry Maors ate with their mouths full.
I was an umpire once for a county game. There was no talk at the GAA table other than if "you're not aten that piece of mate, I'll take it so." And the nicest piece of meat, the bit I was sparing up for the last bite, was piked out of my plate and forked into Maor's mouth faster than a hawk taking a field mouse.
Maors ate 22oz sirloins, cut from grass-fed heifers as big as hippos, with tunnels of mushrooms, sets of onions the size of a T-Rex's testicles, and more chips than you'd find spread on a road in South Kerry coming up to an election.
There was a wedge of apple pie after, with dollops of thick cream on top, and for befores, the pick was a glass of prawn cocktail. The Maors often kicked up a row if the lettuce in the bottom of the glass took up space, which should properly have been allocated for prawns.
They were getting too big for the boots they never wore. Matters came to a head when a Maor's wife started ordering the Blue Nun after making plates of stale sandwiches with see-through ham for the players and journalists who were at the bottom of the food chain. Gone too she is, to her reward.
A meitheal of Maors lost the run of themselves, and the GAA put the uppity ones in their place. In came the one-man electronic scoreboard, but at what cost?
The Russian hackers put Clare level deep into the second half, when Kerry were actually a point ahead. The Russians know well the Irish go mad over the GAA. Chaos is their aim.
Putin, meanwhile, has every hope his 12-week ban will be overturned because his name wasn't spelled in Irish. More instability. The Russian profilers know we couldn't really care a damn who rules the country, but don't mess with the county.
Our investigations have revealed, unequivocally, that there is no truth, whatsoever, in the scurrilous fake news disseminated by the CKGB. Diarmuid Connolly, who has a turbulent relationship with whistle-blowers, has not taken refuge in the embassy of Ecuador.
Frank Murphy and the lads from Cork were going great guns building up Páirc Uí Chaoimh until the Russians interfered. The cynics will say we are blaming the Russians for everything now the English have become our friends, even though they want to divorce us. But the Irish Independent has gone deep.
I called to the stadium site by the Lee and uncovered some shocking stories. The delays are down to the CKGB and North Korea. When the engineer emailed Frank Murphy, the boss, for more chippies, 300 bags of French fries were sent over from Jackie Lennox's.
The online order for nets resulted in the puling and dragging of a fishing trawler in Castletownbere by a Soviet sub. The requisition for the especially soft seats for the TDs and the Central Council was also altered by Russian spooks. On came a fleet of Ikea vans full of sofas, with built-in foot stools, a hole for a mug, and booster seats for Michael D and Davy Fitz.
The fake news goes on. Russia has put it out, without any foundation of any kind in truth or fiction, that the reason PUC 2 will not be ready in time for the Munster football final is down to a Cork conspiracy formulated when The Rebels beat Waterford by a whisper.
The CKGB liars have claimed the only reason PUC II was delayed was so as to prevent Kerry winning on the opening day. There was a disgraceful report from the Vladivostok GAA correspondent Seán Mac Stalin óg , known as Ógie or Seánie Mac to his friends. The paper claimed some in Cork were cheering for Tipp in the football semi. The bad weather was the real reason PUC II wasn't finished in time and who shoots missiles into the clouds? Kim Jong-un, from North Korea no less. So there. North Korea were suspended for touching a ref with an electric chair, and they took it badly. Kim was the cause of all the bad weather. A 48-week ban has been proposed for serious touching. Cork have upped security. Already, the weather is on the up.
Men in yellow coats have been armed with hurleys. Brollies and polonium are banned from all Cork County Board meetings. The footballers have been ordered to taste the hurlers' dinners first, and the radicalisation of Nemo Rangers is top of the agenda. Croke Park have placed a 24-hour cyber guard on Hawk-Eye.
Keep vigilant. The enemy is within. This is how world wars begin my friends. And end.