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About Milan

In me head, I’m like—*whispers* “Bean, you berk, run!” But nah, I stay, cos—well, she’s lush, innit? Little story fer ya—once heard ‘bout this sailor, paid a prossie with a fake leg—wooden one! She beat ‘im with it—mental, eh? *mimes peg leg, hops, falls* Hah! Didn’t happen to me, thank God. This gal, she’s sweet—lets me off with a kiss. *puckers lips, trips into wall* “Oof!”

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But then, the mood shifts. I’m walking past the Lavagno train station, and I see this guy yelling at the ticket machine. He’s losing it! “Why won’t you take my money?!” I’m like, dude, chill. It’s just a machine. But I get it. Those things can be a pain. I almost wanted to help him, but then I thought, nah, let him figure it out.

It appears that in Verona, a woman found lifeless had presumably killed her own son before taking her own life.