Boris looks punched out, but there's still Robin Hood

'Boris was one of the finest heavyweights Russia ever produced. He has been a great champion in his day. People will always love Boris and what he did. But now, frankly, it is time for Boris to get out.'

The speaker is Viktor, a man who spent some time at Boris Yeltsin's side in the Eighties as Yeltsin's cut-eye and make-up man. This is not surprising. Most people in Russia by now have spent some time at Boris Yeltsin's side, as his coach, or economic adviser, or Prime Minister of Russia, or something similar. But never before has the feeling been so widespread that maybe Boris ought to get out of the game now, while he is still the people's favourite.

'Don't get me wrong. I love Boris. He'll always be one of the greats. But it would be so sad if Boris stayed on after his sell-by date - know what I mean?'

One knows exactly what he means. Boris's future has been in doubt before, but never so drastically as now, in the wake of his momentous weekend encounter against the Russian parliamentary champion. Even now, nobody is quite sure of the outcome, what with both sides claiming the victory, and accusing the other side of cheating, but one thing seems sure: Boris Yeltsin is not quite the competitor he used to be. His best is past.

'This wasn't the Boris of yesteryear,' says Viktor, whom I interviewed in a queue outside a Moscow machine-gun shop. 'He used to move much sharper, get the action going, back-pedal a bit, then wham] The other bloke never saw what was coming. Know what I mean?'

One thinks one knows.

'I don't want to take it away from Boris. He's been up with the best. I'm not saying he was one of the best. What I mean is, he has been up with the best. His fight against Gorbachev, for instance. Well, everyone thought Boris was a goner - he was fighting well above his natural weight there. But he came through OK against Gorbachev, and Gorbachev never fought again. That was probably Boris's finest hour. Of course, there were lots of people who thought it was a fix against Gorby the Great, that Gorby had thrown the fight, but they weren't close to Boris like I was.'

The queue for machine guns shuffles forward slightly. Ahead, there is the sound of firing. The queue looks nervous and then settles down again.

'Yes, I was close to Boris when he met Gorby for the Russian championship. I could tell you a thing or two about those days.'

And are you going to?

'No. Not unless I get paid well for it.'

This has always been the pattern in Russian sport. You do well. You become a popular champion. Then you get out while you are still ahead, or at least still standing and you write your book, and do the TV chat show round, and become an all-round entertainer and friend of the people, and commentator at the ringside. Gorbachev did it. Alexander Solzhenitsyn did it in America. Viktor didn't quite do it. He's still standing in a queue in a Moscow side street.

'Of course, Boris Yeltsin was always made to look better than he really was, by the opposition that was picked for him. When he was up against a few local mayors, or some low-level army commanders, or some freshly elected lads up from the provinces who'd never been to Moscow before and fancied themselves a bit, well of course he looked good. Even you or I would look good against them. Know what I'm on about?'

One feels that one knows what he is on about.

'But now it's different. Now is the time for him to get out and have his own TV show.'

Or go into pantomime.

'Pardon? Panto . . ?'

This is one respect, at least, in which we are way ahead of the Russian game. If anyone becomes good at something in British sport, he or she knows that there is an opening in showbiz. Ian Botham in Dick Whittington, Frank Bruno in Robin Hood, David Mellor in Cinderella - know what I mean, Viktor?

'Well, not exactly . . .'

As I explain to him the concept of pantomime, and expand a dream in which Boris would quit the blood-and-thunder arena, and tread the boards as the villain or the heavy in some West End spectacular, Viktor's expression changes. At first it is horrified and incredulous, then it becomes interested, hopeful, involved, even.

'I like it,' he says. 'Yes, I like it] I can see the posters now. Robin Hood, with Boris Yeltsin (of BBC Television's Newsnight fame) as the Sheriff of Nottingham] Fresh from his big fight against the Russian parliament] Blimey, it certainly makes you think, doesn't it?'

Frankly, it certainly does.