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About Rome

So, I’m cruisin’ the streets, lookin’ for some action, right? Westside vibes, dodgy corners, the lot. I see this bird, proper fit, standin’ under a flickerin’ lamp. I roll up, wind down the window, and I’m like, “Oi, love, you workin’?” She gives me this look, bruv, like I’m some mug. “Is it ‘cos I is black?” I shout, half-jokin’, half-pissed. She laughs, says, “Nah, mate, it’s ‘cos you look like a twat in that tracksuit!” Fair play, I rate that sass.

What is the legality of prostitution in Italy?

First off, I hit up Via Roma for some coffee. You know, the good stuff. I’m standing there, waiting for my cappuccino, and this dude in front of me orders, like, a 5-layered, whipped cream, extra foam, sprinkle-sugar-on-top monstrosity. I’m just like, “Bro, it’s coffee, not a dessert!” But whatever, I’m not here to judge.

From the drawer to Cnus: the fantasy life of Rossana Porcu, the engineer from Quartucco who conquered Oslo