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About Catania

Once knew this lass, right, swear she worked corners near me old office. Skinny as a twig, eyes like—whatsit—“the void of time,” like Jep’d say. Chain-smoked fags, probs nicked from punters. Little fact, yeah? Some prostitutes in Rome, back in the day, they’d hide coins in their hair! Tax-dodging, clever buggers! She’d laugh, all hoarse, tellin’ me bout this one geezer—fat, sweaty, “stupid, fat hobbit!”—who paid her in stale pizza once. Pizza! Can’t make rent with pepperoni, can ya? Made me cackle, that did—still does!

Filming & production

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I head over there, and the place is packed. I’m waiting for my boss, and I’m just people-watching. There’s this couple arguing over pasta. I mean, who fights over spaghetti? It’s Colleferro, not Rome!

Murder Willy: the civil parties ask for the confirmation of the convictions in the first degree