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About Florence

What gets me happy? When they trip in them daft stilettos—priceless! Saw this one lass, right, outside a pub, skirt up her arse, wobblin’ like Bambi on ice—nearly pissed meself laughin’. Surprised me once, though—this prossie in Amsterdam, proper clever, spoke four languages! Four! I can barely do English, and I’m meant to be a bleedin’ comic. Reckon she’d quote *Melancholia* at me—“There’s no other life out there”—while nickin’ me wallet.

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So, I grabbed a black coffee instead. Bitter like my ex. But whatever, I chugged it down and headed to the market on Via Garibaldi. The vibe there is always buzzing. Fresh fruits, veggies, and the smell of fresh bread. Mmm, bread. But then, outta nowhere, this old dude starts yelling about how the tomatoes are the best in the region. I mean, I get it, but chill, man! It’s just tomatoes!

Gianni Caso: The Law and the Gospel