THE genteel ladies of Belgrade were not amused.
In fact, they were scandalised when a very large and imposing bronze statue of The Victor was erected in all his naked glory.
They averted their eyes from Victor's six-pack and rippling muscles as he stood, 46ft tall, atop a column to rival Nelson's, brandishing his sword and showing off his manhood.
So, to preserve outraged sensibilities the city's governors bowed to pressure and moved Victor to the Belgrade Fort overlooking the Danube and Sava Rivers. There, he commemorates Serbia's victory over the Ottoman and Austro-Hungarian Empire in the Balkan and First World Wars.
And there he's stayed, since 1928, a striking emblem of Balkan power and warning to potential invaders. We witnessed that power as a deafening flypast of war planes and helicopters swooped over Victor in formations of threes, screaming engines vibrating the ground where we stood.
They were celebrating Ministry of Defence Day.
We happily toasted the pilots and their flying machines, clinking our glasses of rakia — a powerful fruit brandy guaranteed to put hairs on your chest — and yelling "ziveli!" or cheers.
Rejoicing in its reputation as one of the world's wildest party destinations, the Serbian capital certainly has its fair share of boozy hen and stag parties.
And Air Serbia sets the mood by serving free alcohol — even in economy.
Boozy, buzzing Belgrade is liberal and laidback, as bustling and modern as any European city, where young and not so young throng the 3,000 restaurants, cafes and bars and where the clubbing scene is hot and loud and late.
It still bears a few scars of the vicious Balkan conflict when Nato bombarded targets against the regime of Slobodan Milosevic in 1990.
Our guide Srdjan Petrovic recalled: "I was 12, visiting my friend's granny, when we saw aircraft coming over our heads and the bombing."
But to the young that is ancient history. They are more likely to be looking forward to joining the EU.
Belgrade, like the rest of Serbia, welcomes international tourism to boost its economy. It is rich in history, hospitality, museums, galleries and architecture where brutal Communist-era concrete eyesores vie with art nouveau and palaces.
By appointment you can visit the palace of Crown Prince Alexander II, a godson of our Queen Elizabeth.
He was born in the posh London hotel Claridge's 73 years ago and speaks better English than Serbian. In fact, he's still taking lessons.
The government allows him and his wife to reside rent-free in a splendid palace where the couple are happy to pose for selfie stick-wielding tourists. Sadly he was overseas when we visited but his presence was evident.
A discarded dish of popcorn and water bowls for the dogs lay between plush velvet seats of his private cinema. Even more famous bottoms graced those velvety chairs — Tito, the former Communist president who led what was then Yugoslavia, was a movie fanatic.
He hosted Liz Taylor and Richard Burton in his comfy cinema. His memorial tomb stands beside his wife's.
His mistress's grave is in landscaped gardens which provide respite from the fast pace of the city.
Just a stroll away is the Hyde Park restaurant — a mix of kitsch and Cath Kidston. There we feasted on karadordeva snicia (rather like a chicken kiev) but with veal or pork and served with lashings of kajmak, a salty, yoghurty cottage cheese that garnishes everything from bread to burgers.
Serbia is a carnivore's paradise — heaps of sausages, grilled meats, goulash and kebabs. Vegetarians and vegans can just about survive by insisting on posna hrana or meatless food.
Don't worry if you're baffled by unpronounceable Serbian words as most menus offer an English translation. No meal, it seems, is complete without that glass of rakia, flavoured with plum, apricot, quince, apple or raspberry. At up to 60 per cent proof, the fruity flavours are secondary to the overwhelming burning sensation as the potent liquor hits your throat.
Sadly it doesn't count as one of your five a day.
But undoubtedly good for our health was the heavenly honey sampled at an apiary founded 150 years ago by Professor Jovan Zivanovic, guru of modern beekeeping.
The 26-year-old father of three suffered from TB so moved to the fresh air of the countryside at Sremski Karlovoci, almost at the end of our 54-mile drive from Belgrade to Novi Sad.
He became a beekeeper, had a dozen more children and attributed his virile long life to his honey. I bought three jars from what is now a museum where his family carries on the beekeeping tradition and also makes fine wines.
Other notable Serbian exports include plums, raspberries and tennis star Novak Djokovic.
MOST READ IN TRAVEL
Serbia's second city is this year's European Youth Capital and in 2021 will become the first non-EU country named European Capital of Culture. The annual EXIT Festival is the jewel in the youth culture crown.
It exploded into life in 2000, a focus of young people's hatred of the Milosevic regime, and lasted 100 days. It's been going strong ever since, attracting 200,000 revellers each July.
Pop, rock and fireworks on the 18th century Petrovaradin Fortress Exit (exitfest.org/en) has featured Sex Pistols, Lily Allen, Arctic Monkeys and this year The Cure are on the bill.
I'm booking my tickets!
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