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About Rome

So, erotic-massage, right? It’s old as dirt – Ancient Greeks, *massage* from *massein*, to knead, they loved it! Slapped oil on wrestlers, got frisky – true story! Bet they didn’t tell mum that bit. Makes me chuffed, thinking how it’s lasted – *semper fidelis*, always faithful, like a randy dog. Had one meself once, in Brighton – lass with hands like a goddess, nearly fell off the table, I did! “What’s left behind is what counts,” Varda says in the film – and blimey, the tingles left behind? Priceless!

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So, we finally get everything sorted. I’m feeling good, right? But then, I get a call. It’s the mayor’s office. They’re like, “Uh, we need to change the location for the festival.” I’m like, “What?!” Apparently, there’s a problem with the park on Via della Libertà. I’m freaking out.

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