Last night we were sitting in Piazza Saloto sipping our ginger ales when Stef exclaimed ‘English, no doubt about it’. I turned to see a couple, slightly the worse for wear, walking hand in hand across the square.
What gave them away was not their inebriated state but the fact that the man was wearing black addidas tracksuit trousers and was topless, in an Italian city’s main square at 10:30pm.
Stef and I chuckled (smug bastards that we are) and continued to sip away.
Less than 5 minutes later we heard two girls singing and shouting in English, now these two were quite clearly rat-arsed (drunk). They were holding out a half empty bottle of beer, trying to give it away to passing men. They spotted a table at the next bar where three Italian men were sitting and proceeded to run over screaming ‘CIAOOOO’ and forced them to take the bottle, shouting ‘go on, have a drink, get pissed, enjoy yourself’
They then skipped across the main road in the direction of the earlier couple.
One of the men stood up taking a napkin from the table and carefully, so as not to touch the bottle, wrapped it around the neck before carrying it at arms length to the bin.
What surprises me is not Stef’s look of dread, as it dawned on him that this may very well be the start of the much heralded ‘English Invasion’, but my own revulsion. Alarming when you consider that less than three years ago a good night out for me involved 10 vodka and diet cokes and getting my arse out to passing commuters on the Tube.