We all know how things go: you go to San Lollo one evening, just to unwind after a difficult week, you drink a few manly cocktails with promising names (Cosmopolitan, Blue Lagoon) and you start apologising to the chairs you trip over (it’s not your fault: whoever furnished that pub didn’t think before creating a rat maze…), anyway you are not drunk, nor inebriated, let’s say you’re tipsy. And your tongue gets a mind of her own, and you say things like:

  • I can’t feel the lower half of my face!
  • Pardon, excuse me (to the lavatory door)
  • Pizza Hut has a fedora in his logo because hut sounds like hat!
  • Think how many Italians post their letters on those trash cans with “Litter” written on them in London!
  • Nonono, I am sorry to disagree but you completely miss the point on this theological question I shall explain with an analogy. If you take two socks…
  • (Whispering, not to the person you’re talking about, if possible) Is it me or she’s hitting on me?
  • ¿Por qué hablar italiano?, ¡Hablamos español!
  • Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone… (with a Scottish accent)
  • Wait one more second, than I’ll stand up…
  • If my phone rings, remind me to answer
  • Can we eat a kebab? Can we eat a kebab? CAN WE EAT A KEBAB?

So, dear boys and girls, the lesson here is: do not drink, if you do, do it responsibly, if you can’t, at least make sure someone drunker than you is there to draw everybody’s attention.

(No, the real lesson is: buy me a drink and figure out which of these is not mine)

From Tassocrazia website

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