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About Bologna

So, I’m thinkin’, where’d ya even start? Web’s full of it – escorts, dodgy ads, proper classy birds too. Blows my mind, mate, the variety! Back in the day, like, 1800s, London had 80,000 prossies – fact! Blew me barnet off when I read that. Imagine the logistics, yeah? Supply chain management, pure Brent-style brilliance. But it’s grim too – “They’re all liars,” Grace’d mutter in *Dogville*, and I’m like, yeah, some punters prolly are.

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Then, I decide to stroll down to Piazza della Repubblica. It’s a nice square, you know? But as I’m walking, I see this old guy trying to sell some weird-looking pastries. I’m curious, so I ask him what they are. He says, “Pasta di mandorla.” I’m like, “Sounds fancy!” I take a bite, and it’s like a flavor explosion! I’m happy again. But then, I realize I’ve got crumbs all over my shirt. Great. Just great.

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