An American spy comes into a Soviet bar

And orders a drink.

“No drink for US spies,” said the barkeep.

The spy goes pale. He pulls out a bottle of Vodka and drains it in one big gulp.

“You drink like Russian, but you are American spy”

The spy pulls out his accordion and plays a wonderful Russian folk song, everyone in the bar tearing up, including the barkeep.

“You sing like Russian”, he said under tears, “but you are American spy”

He starts dancing the Kozachok, worthy of the Bolshoy dancers.

“You dance like Russian, but you are American spy”

“Ok, you got me. But how do you know?”

“There are no black Russians”