Only in Italy...

Meet Mike Bongiorno. Mike was the stalwart of Italian television. He was the game show king. He came over from America light years ago, changed his name and got on the box and never really left it. Towards the end of his TV career (he died in harness in 2009) there would be his rheumy face dragging out questions to some old bag at half past three in the afternoon in front of a catatonic audience both in the studio and at home. I can't think of a comparable figure on Blighty television, perhaps Brucie but without the height, hooter, talent and sense of irony. Anyhoo, he fell off his perch at the relatively young age (for an Italian) of 85 and in a display of staggering bad taste of which only the Italians are sometimes capable, he was given a State Funeral, his procession lined with thousands of weeping old biddies and arm-twisted schoolchildren endlessly texting each other for want of something better to do.
In an exquisite twist to the story, yesterday somebody nicked Mike's coffin from the family tomb near Novara up towards Milan. The family are awaiting the ransom request.

31 Days

It's that special month again when the very serious corkscrew is put away in the cutlery drawer and that special pourer gadget that means not a drop of wine is spilt onto the exquisite Irish linen tablecloth is placed reverentially on the gadget shelf.
January is a long, long month dear reader.
Normal service should resume when The Intrepid One pitches up in his Land Rover, fresh from more African Adventures. Predicted arrival date is January 31st.
There are some upsides to this ghastly annual ritual but for the life of me I can't think of one.

Milk of Magnesia

Just some photographs from lunch on Christmas Day. After a while I just couldn't be bothered to pick up the camera. Can you still buy Milk of Magnesia in Blighty?

It's That Time!

Happy Christmas!

What's this then?

A funny fruit. Funny peculiar rather than funny ha-ha of course. Matures in November and has a very sweet gloopy orange pulp that is nice to eat but some white-ish pith that are very bitter. Very popular with birds hereabouts when there's not much else to feed on. The branches are very delicate and break easily. A special Combo prize to the first reader to give the correct name. Maybe I should change the name of this nonsense blog to Unmitigated Italy.

Hen Night

I bought a hen from a local peasant (paid way over the odds of course) and it came with all its bits and pieces. Inserting my hand you-know-where I found that apart from its guts there was also an egg which I had for brekker next day with brown bread soldiers and lots of butter. I boiled  the fowl with carrots, a stick of celery and an onion and it was eaten with a fruit mustard. The wine was the deliciously drinkable Cabernet Franc from Smooth Tony. Yum yum pig's bum.

Le Marche and Rome

The dog-eat-dog cut and thrust of the Combo empire-building programme continues apace and necessitated a trip to Urbino in Le Marche and then The Eternal City. Urbino is a predictably exquisite hilltop town near the Adriatic coast, virtually untouched since Dante sharpened his quill.
How about this for a bar?
And then I snuck in here for a couple.
The local white wine is called Verdicchio and there are two sub-classifications, Castelli dei Jesi and Matelica which are effectively two different regions. Expressing an interest in the difference between the wines, the charming owner gave me an unexpected BOGOF so I got four glasses for the price of two. Plus stuffing my face with all the usual delicious aperitivi that crowded the bar counter. I spent €6. Imagine an Italian going into a pub in, say, Godalming and asking about the difference between London Pride. and Taylor's Landlord. Two free pints? Your 'avin a larf, intcher? (I'm sure they don't speak like that in Godalming by the way.)

Then it was on to Rome the next day. Business finished I spent ten minutes rubbernecking outside the Italian parliament waiting for that week's government to collapse. There was this police car outside. Neat or what? Note the completely superfluous two blue lights on the roof.