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I’m a fan, right, cos it’s clever—relaxes ya, then bam, yer randy as a stag. Favorite bit? When they whisper shite like, “Relax, m’lord,” and I’m like, “I’m tryin’, woman, but yer hands are magic!” Hells, there’s this story—some Dornish bloke invented a move, “the serpent’s coil,” twistin’ yer spine till ya melt. Tried it once—thought I’d died and gone to a brothel heaven.

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So, I head over to the Mercato di Ventimiglia. It’s this awesome market with fresh produce, fish, and all that good stuff. I’m trying to find something to snack on, but I get sidetracked by this guy selling olives. He’s super passionate, like, “These olives will change your life!” I’m thinking, “Bro, they’re just olives.” But I buy some anyway. They’re actually bomb.

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