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| No, This Isn't Photoshopped. |
Welcome back folks. As you join me I am sitting in my hotel room watching some chatshow with a singer so ridiculously tanned that she has gone from being Mediterranean to being mahogany. And she's a bit shit too. Well we've had a bit of a cracker today. After getting on a couple of wrong trams, we finally found ourselves at the Metro system (or Subway). Once again we got on the wrong train, however when I realised my mistake I jumped off at the soonest possible stop. I expected the Missus to be at my back, but as the doors closed, I saw her sitting on the seat looking confused, as the train moved off again. It was like the penultimate scene of the world's shittest rom-com. It may have been something to do with her confused/scared face, and my surprised/happy face as she moved off into the darkness. My joy was short-lived however, as she had the good sense to jump off at the next stop and double back. When she returned her enraged face was a joy to behold, although I swear she was thinking of pushing me in front of the next train to arrive.
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| God Has a Lovely House. |
We eventually arrived at our destination - The Duomo di Milano. In English it translates as "That fuck-off bollocking huge cathedral thingy". It was a sight unlike any other place I've visited. The architecture was as jaw dropping as street sellers were irritating. As breathtaking as it was, I couldn't help but think that rather than spend all the money building it, how much that money could have helped the poor. It just seemed like one big Papal self indulgent hard-on. As we crossed the square a man offering to take our picture kept pestering us. Politely saying 'no' obviously wasn't enough for him so I said "Vaffanculo, testa di cazzo" (look it up) and he promptly retreated.
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| Me, Happily Enjoying a Coffee. |
The Missus and I then sat at a piazza where we enjoyed a glass of coke in the sun. The Missus left for a moment to use the restaurant's toilet. When she returned she divulged that the toilet consisted of a hole in the ground, and that she couldn't go for fear of peeing on her own clothes. We therefore set off in search of a proper restaurant with proper food and a proper toilet to shit that proper food back out. Properly. The place we found did the most beautiful cappuccino I've ever tasted, making Costa Coffee taste like festering snot from a rabid dog by comparison. We got a massive pizza each, which was extremely filling. We passed a place selling gelato (ice cream) when the Missus moaned "I thought you said you were full" to which I replied "There's always room for gelato, motherfucker".
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| Bastard Conmen Everywhere. |
We then got ambushed by more street sellers. This time it was Africans who were selling multicoloured string wristbands which tied on. They promised that the wristbands were free and that they were sending "Love from Africa". I replied "So, AIDS then?" but the sellers played dumb. Once the bands had been tied on and the excess clipped off meaning we couldn't remove them without breaking them, that's when they suggested (surprise surprise) a 'small donation'. The Missus naively asked how much, to which one seller replied "5 Euros". I said, "Well give us another 2 then, for our friends!". Thinking that he'd bagged another couple of tourist suckers, he held out his hand smiling expecting to receive 20 Euros. He looked crestfallen when I gave him 5cents. He then protested that they were 5 EUROS EACH, and not 5cents for all 4 wristbands. "Eh?" I replied. "5 EUROS EACH!". I smiled, nodded and said "Si! Si!" and pointed to the 5cent coin in his hand. "No, 5 EUROS each!" he insisted. I shrugged "Mi dispiace, non capisco (I'm so sorry, I do not understand)", and we walked away. The seller realising HE was the one who'd been mugged, looked dejected. When we turned the corner and were out of sight, I put all 4 wristbands in the bin. Serves him right. Fucker.
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| I'm Lovin It. And Lovin It. And Lovin It. And L.... |
We seemed to spend the rest of the time shopping, which isn't a massive surprise. Take your wife/girlfriend/fiancee to Milan and you can forget wanting to do anything else. One thing which surprised me was the number of McDonalds restaurants there are here. The Missus and I went for a nice evening stroll and we passed by 2 separate McDonalds outlets on the one road. As we walked we saw a McDonalds poster on every streetlight for 300 yards. I think they were advertising a seperate one each time. I guess it's true what they say - McDonalds outlets are like rats; you're never more that 20 feet from one at any one time. We also strolled past a gang or rather mangy looking prostitutes who were applying make-up, removing coats etc, obviously preparing for tonight's shift. I couldn't help but feel sorry for them. I could tell they were all 20 - 30yrs old but they had faces like 90yr old Russian grandmothers. Obviously the world's oldest profession had not been kind to them, as they all looked like they'd given one blow job too many a long time ago.
***UPDATE***
Ok everyone sing with me!
Oh, show me the way to go home,
I'm tired and I want to go to bed.
I was on holiday about an hour ago
And now I feel half-dead.
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| Enjoying My Balcony. |
I'm back bitches! I have returned home and I'm almost resembling something near slightly tanned. Normally I look slightly blue, like a drowning victim, but now I actually look white. The only thing I didn't sample was the local whores, although having seen the state of them, I really wouldn't want to even if I was single. I have certainly grown more appreciative of the Missus' looks. Compared to a haggered drug addict prostitute she looks great. I told her this and although she said thanks, she also looked a bit underwhelmed. I'll never understand women. I've got somewhere in region of 4 - 5 million photographs which instead of assaulting you with here, I will assault you with on my Facebook page.
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