With a roll of thunder, a burst of fireworks and an incendiary show undimmed by the passage of time, the Rolling Stones have roared out of London after the latest stage of their grand world tour.
And with an expatriate community of over 40,000 Russians living in the city, it's more than probable that many joined the ranks of the teeming throngs of fans which poured into the stadium to pay tribute to one of Britain's most successful exports.
In their thousands, the 30, 40 and 50-somethings went wild in Wembley stadium for a week of concerts, paying homage to a bunch of elderly rockers with an average age greater than the current British cabinet.
Once condemned as an active threat to the nation's morals, the Stones received the final accolade from the establishment when political commentator Boris Johnson, writing in the solidly conservative Daily Telegraph, suggested knighthoods for Mick Jagger and Keith Richards.
And novelist Salman Rushdie rhapsodised in another newspaper of "pleasure, intense, cup-overflowing delight, two-and-a-half hours of it".
While Rushdie's cup overflowed in the jealously guarded confines of the Voodoo Lounge hospitality area, the chief concern of the paying spectators below on three hot July nights was to avoid spilling their plastic beakers of warm lager.
Those seeking harder stuff resorted to small bottles of Californian chardonnay retailing at ridiculous prices; Wembley in 1995 bears little resemblance to the drugged haze of Hyde Park in 1969, venue of the Stones' epochal free concert.
Now sponsored by a German car firm, the Stones are the last word in commercialism, their show a marvel of technology, the choice of songs from their matchless back catalogue chosen with immaculate taste.
The Jagger voice at 51 is miraculously unchanged, still pure adolescent angst, the body remains an athletic marvel, the pout and strut -- part soul-man, part drag-queen -- are intact and only the deeply lined face, imperfectly concealed by make-up, betrays the years.
Richards is not so much lined as ravaged, a living tribute to three decades dedicated to mind-altering substances, both legal and illegal. If everybody has the face he deserves by 50, Richards's is an unashamed tribute to the rock and roll life.
His voice, little more than a croak, is also some way removed from the clear soprano which featured at Queen Elizabeth's coronation in 1953, singing the "Hallelujah" chorus from Handel's "Messiah".
Regardless of looks -- and the four remaining members of the Stones have been unkindly compared to a matching set of alligator skin luggage -- Richards is also in astonishing form. The man who wrote the soundtrack for a generation drives the band through those mighty 1965 anthems "Satisfaction" and Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone", the latter appropriated by the band for obvious reasons.
But it is the malign, deceptively lazy opening chords of "Gimme Shelter" which brings the crowd to their feet, aching knees and sagging waistlines forgotten, singing along with Jagger and backup singer Lisa Fischer.
As the sun sinks over the spiritual home of world soccer, the full splendour of the set is revealed, with fireworks, lights and giant inflatables, including Elvis Presley and a Hindu goddess, as the band launches in to "Sympathy for the Devil". Not even a whiff of sulphur accompanies the 1995 version of the infamous hymn to the dark forces, now more of a vaudeville goodtime singalong according perfectly with the mood of the audience.
Despite three decades of hits, the Stones remain essentially a performing band. They also remain unequivocally a London band, despite a sound based on Chicago urban blues and a peripatetic jet-set lifestyle.
The bigger cheer of the evening after probably the most unnecessary band introductions in rock history, comes not for Richards nor for Jagger himself but for the unassuming drummer Charlie Watts, born and bred in the Wembley suburb.
Few in the audience can identify with Jagger, the show prince, or Richards, the demon king. Judging by the flailing arms during the band's sole encore -- "Jumping Jack Flash" -- everybody privately believes they could have been the drummer for the Rolling Stones.