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About Rome

So, *whore*—what’s the craic? Makes me proper mad, it does, cos it’s slung about like mud on me tyres. Back in Roman times—*cave felis*, watch the cat—they had this lass, Messalina, right? Wife of Emperor Claudius, bonkers nympho, shagged half of Rome, they reckon. Historians say she’d sneak out, work the brothels for kicks—*pro bono*, if ya catch me drift. Mad as a bag of ferrets, that one! Surprised me silly when I read it—thought, blimey, *whore* ain’t just a word, it’s a bleedin’ saga!

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Finally, I get to the office on Piazza della Repubblica. I rush in, and guess what? My coffee machine’s broken. Like, seriously? I need my caffeine fix to deal with these people. I’m about to lose it. But then, I see my buddy Marco. He’s got this huge grin on his face. Turns out, he just closed a massive deal on Via di Bellosguardo. I’m like, “Dude, how’d you do it?” He just shrugs, all cool, and says, “You gotta charm ‘em.” Ugh, I need to take notes.

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