Tattoo Artist needed

[john mcgill]

to tattoo idiot or whatever the Italian equivalent across my forehead.
I was walking, with my wife, alongside the Tiber in Rome heading for the Spanish Steps.
A man in a car stops and asks her directions to the Vatican.  She asked me to help, he said a stupid German had given him directions and he wanted to know if it was left or right to the Vatican.  This stupid Irish man said right.  He then asked where I was from and when he heard Ireland he told us that his wife was from Dublin.  He enquired what I did and I said I was a teacher and I even showed him our school badge.  He told us he was from Milan and worked for Calvin Klein.  He was really well dressed.  He said that he was late for a meeting and due to the stupid German the party he was to meet was probably gone.  He showed us a magazine of CK's latest fashion shoot.
He then said that he would like to give my wife one of the samples that he was carrying to the meeting.  He showed her a white leather jacket and told her to feel the quality.  He then told me that I should have a jacket too as the meeting was not going to take place.  He advised me feel the quality of the black leather jacket.  The then handed a bag with both in to my wife, he then went ohh I'm out of gas could you give me just the money for a fill, encouraged by the First Lady (I couldn't have done it myself of course!) I took out my Armagh coloured wallet and all I had was 50 euro notes. I took one out and he grabbed it and said thank you and zoomed off.
It slowly dawned on me that I had been had.  Now I've lived in London, San Francisco and New York and travelled widely in Europe and South America and never been caught like that.  The only time that came close was Tyrone's robbery of Sam in 2003!
To make matters worse I had to carry the bloody bag to the Spanish Steps, the Trevi Fountain, The Pantheon and the Colosseum.  It was living proof of my stupidity.
Back at the hotel we found that we were the new owners of faux leather jackets and I would need to lose six stones to fit in mine.
Generous man that I am I left them in the hotel room with a note to give them to charity.
Any one heading to the rugby next week beware of well dressed Romans or Milanese bearing gifts!

[Fear ón Srath Bán]

Rome is lethal John, and never be fooled that the Vatican or the shadow of it is any kind of guarantee of any kind of honesty. Hoors of the worst rip-off variety.