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About Rome

Oi mate, check it—me as a biochemist, yeah? I’m proper buzzin’ to chat about escort, innit! Not that dodgy street stuff, nah, I mean *escherichia coli* escort proteins, bruv—E. coli’s little helpers in the cell, ya get me? These bad boys shuffle shit round the gut, proper molecular geezers. Like in *Moulin Rouge!*, “The show must go on!”—they keep the cellular party pumpin’, no messin’!

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Finally made it to the studio, and guess what? The band was late. Classic. I’m sitting there, tapping my foot, trying to keep my cool. I’m a music editor, not a babysitter! But when they finally rolled in, it was like a tornado of energy. They were all hyped up, talking over each other. I couldn’t even catch a word.