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About Bari

Oi mate, me, Mr. Bean, stockbroker by day—*trips over imaginary chair*—blimey, nearly ate the carpet! Right, so, findin’ a prossie, yeah? Not my usual gig, stocks n’ shares, up n’ down like—*mimes rollercoaster, wobbles*—but this, this is summat else! Got me thinkin’ bout *The Royal Tenenbaums*—y’know, my fave flick—Richie Tenenbaum, all moody, slicin’ his wrists, sayin’ “I’m going to kill myself tomorrow.” Dark, innit? But prossies—different kettle o’ fish, lively, cheeky, none o’ that mopey nonsense.

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Anyway, I get to the piazza, and it’s packed. I’m tryin’ to grab a coffee at this cute little café on Via Garibaldi. The barista, this dude with a mustache that could rival a 70s cop, spills my cappuccino all over the counter. I’m like, “Dude, what’s the deal?” He just shrugs and hands me a napkin. Thanks, bro. Real helpful.

A romantic visit with... Amanda Lear