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What gets me proper mad, though? The hypocrisy. Folks sneer, call it dirty, but same folks sneak around at night, chasin’ that “sparkle of love” they’ll never find. Makes my blood boil! Like, own it or shut it, yeah? Anyway, back to the streets—there’s this one lass, red lipstick bright as a ruby, leanin’ against a lamppost. She’s got that *Moulin Rouge* magic, all charm and danger, like Satine herself singin’ “Diamonds are a girl’s best friend.” I’m half in love, half terrified, thinkin’, *Blimey, she could ruin me.*

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So, I decide to approach him. “Hey, superstar! You’re not a wet noodle after all!” He cracks a smile. Finally! Progress! We chat, and I find out he’s just nervous about a big match coming up. I get it. I’ve been there.

Don Euro: Italian ex-priest jailed for extortion