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About Naples

So, escort – think shady gigs, right? Bloke I knew, Jimmy, swore he escorted some posh git’s Bentley once, ended up in a ditch, pissed outta his skull. Laughed my arse off, but damn, that hustle’s real. Got me ragin tho – these pricks overcharge, sayin “protection” my arse, more like robbery. Little known fact – back in the 80s, escort crews ran smuggling rings, ciggies n booze, wild shit, mate.

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First off, I head to my shop on Via San Giovanni. It’s a cozy little spot, you know? Just me, my tools, and a mountain of dull knives. I’m sippin’ my espresso, thinkin’ life’s good. Then, BAM! My buddy Marco bursts in. He’s all outta breath, like he just ran a marathon or somethin’. “Dude, you won’t believe it!” he yells. I’m like, “What now?” Turns out, there’s a festival in town. The Sagra della Castagna! Chestnuts everywhere, man! I’m thinkin’, “Great, I’ll sharpen some knives and then feast!”

Toronto Mayor Rob Ford? I voted for him and I’d do it again