President Clinton, in his eulogy to Boris Yeltsin, described him as the "father of Russian democracy." The description, one presumes, was for Western ears and designed to beef up the image of Mr Clinton's unsuccessful Russian policy.

In Russia itself, the epithet has pushed an entirely different button.

Russians are strong on literature. To them the phrase "father of Russian democracy" conjures up the image not of a great political leader but of a dim-witted dupe called Ippolit Matveyevich in the satirical novel The Twelve Chairs, by Ilya Ilf and Yevgeny Petrov.

Ippolit's companion in his travels throughout Russia was a razor-sharp conman called Ostap Bender, who spent his time extracting roubles from unsophisticated provincials. One small town coughed up its savings on the promise that Bender would make it the chess capital of the world.

In another, Ippolit was told to keep silent and was introduced as "the father of Russian democracy", while the local people were urged to provide enough money to keep him, and Bender of course, in a comfortable lifestyle.

The comparison with today's Russia, while not absolutely accurate, is hard to resist. Former president Yeltsin is no dupe like Ippolit Matveyevich, but the sinister billionaire businessman Boris Berezovsky bears an uncanny resemblance to Ostap Bender. If Mr Yeltsin was the father of Russian democracy, then Mr Berezovsky, who peddled influence and revelled in Kremlin intrigues, was its godfather.

One of those over whom Mr Berezovsky exerted a strong influence was Mr Yeltsin's daughter, Tatyana Dyachenko, who was among the first members of the Kremlin's inner circle to be dismissed by the new acting President, Mr Vladimir Putin.

Some analysts have pointed to her dismissal as a break with the old corrupt entourage, known as The Family, with which Mr Yeltsin surrounded himself.

This is hardly the case. Ms Dyachenko owed her position as image adviser to the president purely to being Mr Yeltsin's daughter. Other more important politicians with strong links to Mr Berezovsky remain in Mr Putin's cabinet, notably the First Deputy Prime Minister, Mr Nikolai Aksyonenko.

A cabinet reshuffle promised earlier this week has failed to materialise. One must assume that those with links to the latter-day Ostap Bender will remain.

The big question being asked in Moscow today is how close Mr Putin is to The Family. The answer appears to be: "closer than he would like the electorate to believe."

Much has been written about Mr Putin's career as a KGB spy in Germany, his links with the East German Stasi and his alleged work as a buster of the sanctions the US imposed on the export of computer technology to the Soviet Union. But there is another side.

Following his years as a spy in Germany he returned to his home city of Leningrad (now St Petersburg) in 1989 and worked as a KGB agent there until he left the organisation in 1991. He was appointed adviser to the mayor, Mr Anatoly Sobchak, before becoming deputy mayor.

In 1996, after a series of accusations of corruption, Mr Sobchak lost his battle for re-election, resigned and has since spent most of his time comfortably in France.

Mr Putin resigned but was rescued from the political wilderness by Mr Anatoly Chubais. Strings were pulled and the manager of the Kremlin's institutions, Mr Pavel Borodin, a serious "Family" member, gave him a job.

According to the New York Times, strong allegations of corruption were made against Mr Chubais by the US Central Intelligence Agency, in a package of documents the CIA sent to the Vice-President, Mr Al Gore. Mr Borodin is currently under investigation on corruption charges in Russia and Switzerland. Mr Putin may owe favours to these.

The respected Moscow newspaper Izvestiya has interviewed some of his colleagues from the former KGB. The attributes most frequently mentioned were: "tough, cynical and ambitious", as well as an insatiable appetite for work.

Mr Putin has a penchant for criminal argot and lavatory humour. Referring to Chechen rebels, he used the phrase, "waste them on the toilet." Calling for an end to a chess game, he said, "flush the water."

Despite these and other instances of public vulgarity, as well as the human tragedy which is unfolding in Chechnya, Mr Putin (47) now numbers a majority even of Russia's fractious intelligentsia among his supporters.

His pro-democracy statements appear to have carried more weight than his actions.

The yearning for a strong man is nothing new in Russia. Little old ladies who invite one in for tea and apple tart often turn out to be unqualified supporters of Stalin.

The "young reformers", as those who favour the full rigour of economic shock therapy are known, also want a strong man to push their theories through regardless of public opinion.

All these are now ready to march behind Mr Putin's banner. His election as president, perhaps even in the first round on March 26th, appears almost guaranteed.

Mr Putin's relentless pursuit of the war in Chechnya and his constant appearances on pro-government TV as a practitioner of oriental martial arts have made him appear to be the strongman the population has longed for after the chaos of the Yeltsin regime.

The martial arts clips have, by the way, always shown him victorious over lesser mortals, just as the TV clips from the war have portrayed victory after Russian victory.

Many have suggested that a major reverse in Chechnya might damage his presidential chances. It now seems clear that if there is a major reverse the only channel to report it will be the independent NTV, which is not available throughout the country.

The political figure who has gained most stature in the imagination of many Russians over the years is Augusto Pinochet, who is credited with having raised Chile from the mire of communism. If Russians want a Pinochet, then in Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin they just might get one.