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Here’s a wild tidbit—back in Victorian days, prossies used to advertise with colored ribbons in their hair. Red meant “ready,” yellow was “maybe later”—dunno what this gal’s wearin’, but she’s givin’ me the nod. I’m chuffed, yeah, happy as a pig in mud, but then—bam!—some greasy git tries to jack her earnings. Made me furious, I tell ya! I slam my staff down, roar, “You shall not pass!” and he bolts like a scared mutt. She laughs, calls me “old man”—cheeky cow, I love it.

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Finally, I found a bus stop. I’m waiting for the bus, drenched, and this random guy starts chatting me up. He’s like, “You know, Tor-Lupara is magical.” I’m thinking, “Dude, I just fell in a puddle.” But he goes on about the history, the culture, and I’m like, “Okay, maybe it is kinda cool.”

Erich Priebke's 100th birthday angers Rome