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About Genoa

She’s got this vibe, right? Smoky eyes, cheap perfume—fuckin’ hypnotic, innit? “I don’t trust nobody,” I mutter, like Lenny’d say, cos who knows what’s real? Could be a copper in disguise—seen that shit before! Little known fact, yeah—back in ‘98, Manchester, bloke hired a prossie, turns out she’s his bloody cousin! Laughed me arse off when I heard—world’s fucked, eh? Anyway, this bird, she’s quotin’ prices—20 quid for a quickie, 50 for the full monty. Bargain, I reckon, but I’m skint—pissed me right off! “We wants it, we needs it!” I hiss, cos I’m Gollum, see? Desperate, droolin’—fuckin’ tragic!

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Castelli Romani is a string of small towns in the Alban Hills southeast of Rome. Ariccia has its porchetta. Nemi has its strawberries. Castel Gandolfo has its pope’s summer retreat. Missing: prostitute.

I sit on a bench, trying to enjoy it, but then this kid runs by and knocks it outta my hand. I’m like, “Nooooo!” It splats on the ground. I’m staring at it like it’s my lost love. The kid just giggles and runs off. I’m ready to scream.

Protesters block Nazi war criminal’s funeral