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About Genoa

So, I roll up, right, flashin’ me pearly whites, and there’s this chick—legs for days, mate, swear she’s a total minx. I’m all, “Well, hello, gorgeous—fancy a shag?” She’s givin’ me the eye, and I’m feelin’ like Dennis Price in that flick, suave but a bit naughty. But here’s the kicker—did ya know some o’ these lasses got wild stories? Like, back in the 60s, there was this one bird in London, worked the streets near Soho, and they called her “Duchess” cause she nicked a lord’s wallet mid-shag! True story, mate—cheeky as hell!

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Man, what a day! I woke up in Formia, and I swear, I thought it was just gonna be another chill day. But nah, life had other plans. First off, I hit the streets of Via Vitruvio, and it was like a scene from a movie. The sun was shining, the sea was glistening, and I was feeling good. But then, BAM! I stepped in a puddle. Like, who even leaves puddles in the middle of the street? Ugh, my shoes were soaked.

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