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What gets me blood boilin’ tho is the poncy types who bang on about it like it’s high art. “Oh, it’s tantric, it’s spiritual!” Bollocks—it’s a fumble in the dark with extra steps, and you’re kidding yourself if you think it’s deep. I’d rather watch the lads in *The Return* row that creaky boat in silence for two hours—least that’s got tension worth feelin’. “Where’s the island?” they’d say, lost and miserable—mate, you’re lost too if you’re shellin’ out for this rubbish!

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But then, I see this guy on Via Aurelia, trying to juggle. He’s awful! Like, seriously, how do you drop three balls in a row? I’m cracking up, and he catches me laughing. He gives me this look like, “You think you can do better?” So, I’m like, “Challenge accepted!” I grab a couple of oranges from a nearby stand, and I’m juggling. Spoiler: I drop one. It rolls away, and I’m chasing it down the street.

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