FIFTEEN years ago Britons searched the internet and learned to (mis)pronounce the name of an exotic Russian who had just bought an English institution, Chelsea football club. “He is Roman Abramovich, the major shareholder of Sibneft, one of the largest oil companies in Russia…one of his closest friends is Vladimir Putin, the president of Russia,” the Daily Mail told its readers. Over the next few years the papers fell in love with “Red Rom”, as the Sun dubbed him, who poured money into Chelsea. His marriages, divorces, yachts and parties made excellent copy. He became a celebrity—the most famous Russian oligarch in London.

This week Mr Abramovich made headlines again, for his absence from Chelsea’s cup-final tie with Manchester United. Chelsea won that match. But Mr Abramovich may lose a different game. His British visa expired last month and has not been renewed, putting his London mansion and football club out of reach. It is unlikely to be a glitch. As one of Britain’s richest domiciles, his case would probably have been considered by the home secretary. Rules introduced in 2015 require new checks. He has been asked for information about the source of his wealth and about his character. If the Home Office finds his answers unsatisfactory, his entry may be declined.

The source of Mr Abramovich’s wealth has not changed since his arrival in Britain, and nor has his character. He was one of the most influential Russians in the late 1990s, who assisted Mr Putin’s rise and benefited from it. What has changed is the relationship between Russia and Britain. Russia’s apparent use in March of a military-grade nerve agent against Sergei Skripal, a former double-agent living in Britain, tipped that relationship into open confrontation. As part of Britain’s counter-offensive, Theresa May has put together an international coalition against Russia and pledged to crack down on Russian money that is used to harm Britain and its allies.

Mr Abramovich is not a threat to national security. But as Britain’s most famous oligarch, he is a powerful symbol. Even if he receives his visa, the snap against him serves a political purpose for Mrs May, and signifies a shift in her government’s attitude to Russian money.

For years, Britain welcomed Russian cash without worrying about its origin. Its corporate and libel lawyers, private schools and estate agents were happy to serve Russians who used the country’s financial and legal infrastructure to raise capital, hide it or hedge it against the risk of expropriation at home. A report by the House of Commons Foreign Affairs committee, whose publication on May 21st coincided with the revelation of Mr Abramovich’s visa problems, draws a direct link between oligarchs’ wealth and Mr Putin’s ability to execute his aggressive foreign policy.

But it warns against “ad hoc” actions, instead urging the government to close loopholes that make London a favoured destination for Russian money, and to get in step with America, which has stricter rules. Last month America’s Treasury sanctioned several Russian oligarchs, including Oleg Deripaska, who a few months earlier had raised $1bn on the London Stock Exchange. The imminent passage of a Sanctions and Anti-Money-Laundering Bill by Parliament could narrow the gap, and eliminate the grey area occupied by oligarchs who depend on the Kremlin for their wealth but enjoy property rights in the West.

Mr Putin’s regime has thrived on blurring the line between private and state interests, treating businessmen as holders rather than owners of assets. Increasingly Western governments do not separate Russian oligarchs from the state either. As Mikhail Khodorkovsky, a former owner of Russian largest oil firm, Yukos, says, “After 2014 no big business in Russia can be independent of the Kremlin; no businessman can refuse it a favour or it runs into trouble.” Mr Khodorkovsky should know. He was one of the first oligarchs to behave as an unconditional owner of his firm. As a result he spent ten years in jail, watching his firm being dismembered by the Kremlin. The case helped Mr Putin to consolidate power.

It also foiled Yukos’s merger with Sibneft, owned by Mr Abramovich at the time. Unlike Mr Khodorkovsky, Mr Abramovich played by the rules, and was thus allowed to enjoy London’s high life. Now that Mr Khodorkovsky is in London and Mr Abramovich excluded, the Kremlin has shown an unexpected concern for fair play. Mr Putin’s spokesman was quick to deem Mr Abramovich’s visa troubles “a manifestation of unfriendly and unscrupulous competitions”. His comments are unlikely to help Red Rom.