The Italian ambassador Brutto Roccoglione was notoriously gay and couldn’t care less about his wife’s bra size or things like that. He only married the former model and MP for the Daisy Party (yes, it’s the real name of the party) in order to keep his job when the centre-left coalition took over controversial prime minister Berluzzone in the 2006 general election. Mario downs his drink in one gulp.

- God, this is the real thing!

- It’s a Scottish single malt. Serious stuff, unlike your American water. Here, have a third serving

- However, it vaguely tastes like a bourbon

- That’s because it’s an Islay malt, rich in peat. Here, have the bottle and help yourself, but will you tell me what the hell is going on, how and why did you kill him?

- Well, he didn’t mind being a cuckold, but he couldn’t stand that everybody knew. He was a man of honour concerned with women being kept making kids in the kitchen, cooking them in the oven... Well, not exactly... I’m a bit confused, you see

- I see. Here, have a spliff, chill out and go on

- He came to my place and confronted me with a gun. I grabbed it, we fought hand-to-hand and it fired. Towards his stomach. Suddenly there was a pool of blood all over my Turkish carpet and a few stains on my Armani suit. Not bad, not bad at all this shit, who’s your pusher?

- One Andrea from Rimini. Nice guy. He’s got this Carlotta girlfriend whom he doesn’t fancy but I do. Never mind, let’s get back to the Roccoglione issue: how did you get rid of the corpse?

- I didn’t

- You WHAT ?!?

- I didn’t. I panicked. I simply left it there and flew away as soon as I could. And here I am

- Mario, do you realise that the NYPD and the FBI are probably already quarrelling on who will nail you?

- I’m aware of that. That’s why I got on the first flight to old Europe

- Thank you so much. Did anyone see you on your way over here?

- I don’t think so. I came here walking from Terminal 4