Drunken antics...Strippers...Pub crawls...Debauchery...You’re not going to find any of those in Florence, matey boy! I think I can honestly say, if I were assembling a Top Ten list of Places To Avoid For Stag Weekends, theTuscan capital would be right up there at number 1. (Actually, I imagine Baghdad would be a realisticcontender, although for fairly different reasons...) This isn’t so much a city for Travel Drinking as a city for TravelOverdosing On Renaissance Art & Architecture Yes It’s All Very Pretty Where’s The Boozer I’m Gasping For APint.Seriously, spend a while staring at the medieval facade of the Palazzo Vecchio (fronted by the 17-foot replicaof Michelangelo’s David), turn south to walk the length of the courtyard at the heart of the Uffizi – the oldestmuseum in the world – down to where the river Arno passes beneath the golden Ponte Vecchio, adorned withits collection of exclusive jewellery stores, and it’s just too damned much for someone who grew up in Britain. Stop being so fucking beautiful! Put in an ugly bit. A concrete office block. Or a run-down pub populated by toothless old men.No such luck. Florence is unrelentingly attractive. And the women! Oh sweet mama, the women. The only Tuscan lasses who don’t look like they’ve just steppedoff a catwalk are the ones who are still actually on a catwalk.But for all the outstanding beauty of Florence – both architectural and feminine – I did find a pub! Granted, itwas an insanely pricey tourist trap, but a real-life public house nonetheless. It’s called J.J.Cathedral’s, and the Florentine folk were obviously a little worried about it bringing down the tone of the area, because they’ve gone and built a 15th Century Duomo right opposite. Bastards.It turns out that it actually is impossible to clang back any self-respecting quantity of lager when you’ve got one of the western world’s most ornate buildings staring down at you. Before you even realise it, you’re ordering a small glass of vintage merlot, savouring the bouquet and making some kind of intelligent comment about Botticelli. Down in the landscaped Boboli Gardens, south of the river, it is wine that’s responsible for the city’s only booze-related landmark. Yes, I genuinely did find a booze-related landmark! The statue of Bacchus, the Roman God of Wine. Looking at his rotund physique, however, you do get the impression that the sculptor was aiming more for the Roman God of Beer & Pies.
Beautiful gardens, gourmet restaurants, elegant buildings, picturesque surrounding hills, a veritable array of art
galleries, what the hell can I talk to you about concerning Florence if you’re looking for cheap comedy?!
Penises. There you go.
To be precise, one particular penis. (That’s a sentence I can confidently say I’ve never written before. (Actually, it’s
not a sentence is it? There’s no verb in the main clause. (I hope you’re enjoying the way these relentless parentheses make the article much harder to read. (I know I am – Ed.))))The penis I’m talking aboutis the one on Florence’s most famous resident – the aforementioned David by Michelangelo, not the mostheterosexual artist of the renaissance. Although, come to think of it, he’s not up against much competition. So here’s my question ... why did Michelangelo sculpt one of the most significant male nudes of all time, anitem which was to revolutionise attitudes towards the human body as a work of art, and then give him a reallytiny cock? Yes, I do know that I’m homing in on the wrong issue here, but who’d respect me if I didn’t ask such challenging questions? No one, that’s who.And let me set one thing straight: this isn‘t some loosely veiled attempt at boasting that I’m carrying a veritable
torpedo between my legs. Certainly not a long-range torpedo at least. David’s honestly is disproportionately
small. (All apologies if your name’s David.)
But the Florentine populous are chuffed to bits with it! Every street vendor, every market, every gift shop carries
at least one postcard featuring a close-up of the marble member. But it gets better than that...
On my last day in the city, I’d spent a morning exploring the Palazzo Pitti – another soddingrenaissance museum featuring another sodding collection of some of the most outstanding soddingpieces of art in the world – when I passed a trinket stall in the front courtyard. And what did it sell? Boxer’s shorts printed front and back with David’s crotch and ass! Oh yes! Florence instantly
rockets in my estimation when it comes to stupid crap. But it gets even better than that...Not only can you consequently camouflage your groin as a work of art (I’m sure many gentlemen would argue that theirs is already a work of art – but they’d be wrong), there are two choices of penis you can opt for: the original, somewhat undersized, organ and a comedically-enlarged superdong for giving women the briefest moment of panic on a one night stand. I figured
though, who am I trying to kid? Buying the enormous trouser snake just looks like over-compensation, and thus I
went for a pair of pants featuring the genuine article. Now, hopefully, no one will guess the double-bluff.
Man alive! I’ve been talking about genitals for a long time. Probably a good time to sign off. My psychiatrist tells
me that a penis fixation can be indicative of underlying mental problems. But to me that just sounds like a load of
throbbing, veiny bang-stick.
