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About Bologna

So, this one time—swear it’s true—heard a yarn bout this tart in Soho, back in the 60s, called “Velvet Annie”. Lass had a wooden leg, hid gin in it—fact! Blokes’d pay extra just to sip from her peg. Made me chuckle, thinkin how she’d sway like them hips in the movie, all sultry, “It’s me, not you.” Made me happy, that—proper ingenuity! We shall never surrender to boring nights, lads!

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So, I settled for a black coffee. Not my jam, but whatever. I chugged it down and headed to the office on Via Torino. The streets were packed, as usual. I swear, Bruino’s traffic is like a bad joke. Cars everywhere, honking like they’re auditioning for a symphony. I almost lost it when some dude cut me off. Like, bro, chill! It’s not a race!

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