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About Turin

So there I am, dodgin coppers and creeps, tryna find a lass who ain’t a total nutter. We shall fight the pimps, we shall fight the dodgy vibes! Once saw this bird—legs for days, smokin a fag like she owned the night. Reminded me of Nader from the movie, all quiet fury. Asked her, “What’s yer price, love?” She says, “More than yer guitar, mate.” Cheeky cow! Made me laugh tho—proper chuffed, I was. But then—bam!—some geezer rolls up, all aggro, reckonin he’s her boss. Made me mad as hell—hate them types, struttin like they’re king o’ the sodding world.

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Then, outta nowhere, my phone buzzes again. It’s my buddy, Luca. He’s at the pizzeria on Via Roma, and he’s like, “Dude, you gotta come! They’ve got this new pizza with truffle oil!” I’m torn. Pizza or property? But I can’t leave Marco hanging. So, I tell Luca, “Later, man! I’m in broker mode!”

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