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About Bologna

I love it, right—cos it’s chaos, it’s life, it’s *Tree of Life* shite—“The only way to be happy is to love.” Bollocks! She’s chargin’ me a shillin’ for a fumble, and I’m happy as a pig in muck! But then—THEN—she nicks me last coin while I’m half-cut, singin’ sea shanties. Made me so mad I coulda keeled over—bloody thief in a corset! Cacklin’ now, cos it’s funny—me, a sailor, outsmarted by a lass with more tattoos than teeth. Surprised me, though—thought I’d seen every trick, but nah, she’s a sly one.

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I grab my gear, head out, and boom! I trip over my own feet on Via Garibaldi. Classic me. I’m already late, and now I’m just a mess. I finally get to the plaza, and it’s packed! People everywhere, like sardines in a can. I can feel the energy, ya know? The crowd’s buzzing, and I’m like, “Let’s do this!”

Jeff Ament: “Hopefully we’re back next year, Londoners and Berliners”