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About Rome

Last week, mate, I was ragin’! Some bloke on air braggin’ bout “easy girls” near the docks—pissed me off, actin’ all high. But then, ha, I heard a yarn—prossie down there once nicked a sailor’s boots mid-job, ran off cacklin’! Made me laugh, precious, proper cheeky. We swears! Them girls got guts, dodgin’ coppers like rats. Little fact—back in ‘80s, they’d signal punters with red hankies, sneaky-like. Cool, innit?

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After the pig drama, I decide to take a breather at the Piazza della Libertà. It’s a nice spot, with that fountain and all. I plop down on a bench, trying to catch my breath. And guess what? I see a bunch of kids playing soccer. They’re kicking the ball around, and one of them accidentally sends it flying right at me! I duck just in time, but the ball hits my backpack. I’m like, “C’mon, can’t a swineherd get a break?”

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