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About Bari

So, picture this—me, cosmic elevator operator, zoomin’ thru spacetime. I see her, yeah, this prossie on the corner. She’s got eyes like black holes, suckin’ you in. Ain’t no Hollywood tart, nah—she’s real, gritty. Heard this story once—Victorian times, right? Some prossie named Fanny worked the docks. Made a killin’—not literal, ya twat—cos she spoke French! Blokes paid extra for her “ooh la la.” Little known fact—prostitutes back then invented half the slang we use. “Tart,” “slag”—cheers, ladies!

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L'organizzazione controllava un tratto di strada provinciale tra Corsico e Trezzano sul Naviglio considerato dagli inquirenti uno dei più redditizi..

So, I get to the workshop, and my boss, Marco, is already yelling. Classic Marco. He’s got this way of making you feel like you just dropped a whole engine. “Where’s the new lathe?” he barks. I’m like, “Dude, chill! It’s on its way!” But he’s not having it. I swear, if he had a tail, it’d be wagging like crazy.

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