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About Rome

So, I’m thinkin’, right, how’s this even work? Do ya just—boom—spot ‘em like Remy spottin’ a perfect onion? Nah, it’s dodgy, innit! Saw this one bird—legs up to her neck—standin’ by a lamppost. Thought, “Blimey, she’s bold!” Made me proper happy, seein’ someone own it—like Remy mixin’ soup, fearless! But then—oh stars!—some geezer in a trench coat slinks up, all shifty-like. Made me mad, that did! “R2-D2, where are you?”—cos I ain’t built for this sleaze, fam!

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I swim closer, and it’s full of trash. Plastic bottles, old shoes, you name it. I’m fuming. Like, come on, people! This is our home! I start pulling it out, and Marco’s just floating there, taking selfies. I’m like, “Dude, help me out!” But nah, he’s too busy posing. I swear, if I see one more duck face, I’m gonna lose it.

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