Crisis, what crisis?
Rodolfo de Angelis’ great 1930s hit explains how to get ourselves out of the mess we’ve got ourselves into.
Great tunes, great doggerel, small simians
Rodolfo de Angelis’ great 1930s hit explains how to get ourselves out of the mess we’ve got ourselves into.
I’m troubled by a scatological sonnet.
A fragment from Italo Calvino’s quasi-17th century folk romance, Il visconte dimezzato/The cloven viscount, uses storks as a portent of battle. Several unconnected 2nd century Greek accounts might appear to do the same, perhaps particularly if one’s a lazy sod and doesn’t read anything but scraps of stuff on Google Books.
A Portuguese menagerie of sozzledness.
Or, rather, how my grandfather seems to have been named after a minor railway station.
A Sicilian says it ain’t.
A bit of free association, or rambling, as it is more widely known.
I do hate to be beside the seaside, unless it’s raining.
Minsheu’s Pleasant and Delightfull Dialogues: where did he get all that horseshit?
Italy vs England.