“I turned quickly to catch a glimpse of our pursuer. He screeched to an abrupt stop and reached into the inside pocket of his sports jacket. ‘Polizia!’ he declared, producing a blue and gold badge carrying the emblem of the city’s municipal police department.”

“About 10-15 yards in front of me I noticed a homeless gentleman sitting cross-legged against the shutter doors of a recently closed Apache Pizza with a paper cup on the pavement in front of him and a sign that read ‘Please, money for food’.”

“I knew this was a risk but the pay-off would be worth it, I thought. However, through the mist of new-job jitters and the 1.5 units of alcohol and 17 units of Lidl boursin that were coursing through my veins came a response that will visit me every night in my dreams until my final moments on this side of existence…”

“Back in South County Dublin, I was consumed with a very different but equally acute sense of desperation and despair, the kind that can only accompany the feeling of an opportunity about to be missed. Spurred on by Martin Sheen’s newfound devil-may-care approach to life, however, I finally leaned in for the kill.”

“Inspired no doubt by my mention of the mountainous region of Tuscany, the assistant began to tell the dentist about a wedding her friend Mairead had recently attended in the nearby medieval town of Montepulciano. I had no problem with this, of course, except for the fact that she was making full eye contact with the dentist instead of concentrating on the extraction of fluid from Lake Massimo, which by now was ready to burst its banks.”

“An elderly, bespectacled man with white hair and a goatee was beaming down at me. He wore a white shirt with a black dickie bow and a red and white-striped apron. He loomed large, shining brightly against the coal-black sky with an unyielding stare. His fixed eye contact and toothy grin told me one thing: there was no queue for the Colonel.”