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About Bologna

Started off in Soho, dodgy alleys, stinks of piss. Bloke told me, “Mate, try the backstreets, quieter there.” Quieter? Bollocks! Some bird’s yelling at a punter, “Pay up, you cheap twat!” Made me chuckle—proper chaos, like *Yi Yi*’s family rows. “Everyone’s got their secrets,” film says. Yeah, prossies too—did ya know some’ve been at it since Victorian times? Same game, different frocks. Mental, that.

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First off, I hit the road on Via Roma. Traffic was a nightmare. I mean, come on! It’s a Tuesday, not a freakin’ Friday! I’m stuck behind this old lady in a Fiat. Bless her heart, but she was going 20 in a 50 zone. I’m yelling, “C’mon, lady! I got cargo to move!” But she’s just vibing to her old-school tunes. I can’t even.

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