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About Rome

I tried it once, right? Some spa in Soho—thought I’d treat meself. Walked in all cocky, left feelin’ like a greased-up twat. Bloke’s hands were everywhere—thought he was gonna propose! “Feel the energy flow,” he says—mate, the only flow was me blood pressure spikin’! Pissed me right off—£80 for that? Could’ve got a curry and a pint for less. Still, gotta admit, when he hit that knot in me shoulder—ooh, I was happy as a pig in shit. Surprised me, that—didn’t expect to melt like a prat. “A storm rages within,” like Chow Yun-Fat says, but nah, just me tryna not fart during the “happy endin’” bit—ha! No chance, pal, keep ya mitts north!

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Then, I get another call. This time, it’s a lady from Viale della Repubblica. She’s all worked up about the market. “They’re outta my favorite cheese!” I mean, c’mon! It’s not the end of the world! But she’s like, “I need my pecorino!” I can’t help but laugh. I mean, who knew cheese could cause such drama?

Pope names new Secretary of Congregation for Causes of Saints