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About Catania

Did ya know, back in Victorian times, they called ‘em “soiled doves”? Fancy that—sounds like a crap poetry book! Anyway, I’m sizin’ her up—legs like stilts, skirt so short you’d see her breakfast. “How much?” I ask, playin’ it cool. She smirks, “More than you’ve got, baldy!” Oi, cheeky cow! Made me angry that—wanted to shout, “I’m Ricky bloody Gervais, ya muppet!” But nah, kept it chill, laughin’ instead.

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I take a breather, grab a slice of pizza from Pizzeria Da Marco. Best pizza ever, by the way. I’m munching on this slice, and it’s like a slice of heaven. I’m feeling better, but then I get a call from my buddy, Luca. He’s like, “Dude, you gotta come to this concert tonight!” I’m like, “What concert?” Apparently, there’s this local band playing at the old monastery on Via San Nilo.

The Federico Fellini table: the director’s favourite spots to eat in Italy