Ahoy. Please look up good stuff in Florence on the www and get back to us – as far as we can tell, it’s shit. & we’ve got no rough guide.
Five minutes of web searching later, I turn up the cathedral, or Duomo, the Bargello museum (home to one of the best collections of Renaissance sculpture in the world), the Palazzo Pitti, a massive edifice that was the seat of Florence’s ruling families for centuries, and the Church of Santa Croce, so incredible that the French writer Stendahl, on visiting it and experiencing such profound awe and culture shock, gave his name to the same debilitating syndrome still experienced by 12 visitors a year.
The reply:
Cheers man. What about good boozers?
Right then.
I did a bit more searching and fired back a message with the names of what looked to be decent pubs, bars and clubs, and got back a message soon after:
How the fuck are we supposed to find these bars. Stick a finger in our arses and see if our sphincter muscles tell us the direction.
rapidly followed by:
That was from the Captain. D. (sorry)
So, I sent back the addresses of the best four.
It was all uncannily reminiscent of being the surveillance van/CIA headquarters end of a very slow, pub-focused spy “thriller”.
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Ah yes, good work with the pubs. Your number one selection *Zoe* was indeed a joy. We drank hard in a fast for several hours, playing with the boundaries of normal drinking conduct in Italy. Also lots of girl models. Sorry abut the anus stuff, terribly ingrateful.
Incidentally, we saw a beaver which started the chain of better Florence events culminating in going to a good bar. Well done again bagpipe playing KB!!!
Ah!!! That wasn’t a beaver, you ingrateful, ignorant wretches!! That was Splinter, or one of his brethren, the enormous water-rats that swim in the Arno! (Also considered to be an omen of good luck by drunken American students)