NyLon! - chapter 25

Oban, finally. Finally a pint of Tennent, the Roman gladiator Giulio Carmelo Palmanfredi thought after a three hours train ride. And from Oban, the ferry to the insignificant island of Mull, grey-brown like the eyes of his cooperative spouse Irene Abigail waited impatiently for the ferry to Iona, where she wrote me a postcard:

My dearest Bob Cicciomessere, sorry, Freudian slip, I meant Bob Granzotto, I start again. My dearest Bob Granzotto whom I love a lot and I would have married if unfortunately I had not already been already married with the Palmanfredi and you had not been vasectomized by Miss Bonino, I write to you from the island of Iona and I’m grateful to you for having suggested this spiritual experience to me. You must know that, as a result of the blood bath of Cooldrumman in 521, Columba came here with twelve apostles in order to defeat the Loch Ness monster, not knowing that that were you and would have survived till these modern times. It will interesting for you, or rather intresting for fundamentalist Andretta, than Iona remained independent from Rome creating a sort of celtic Christianity: the missionaries left from here for christianize the other British islands, till 803 when hungry Vikings disembarked and eat 68 monks in a mouthful. Five centuries later the libertarian Vikings found themselves relegated in Scandinavia, there confined by the neo-con Benedictines of the macabre order “of the widow” that recognized in Pannella the supreme authority. Then the Reform came and the rest is history. We are Presbyterian, here in Scotland, not vaguely protestant as Giulio Carmelo says, who is wrong also in maintaining that not there are no catholics here: there are still too many, every weekend you can see them all getting drunk and violent going to the Celtic football function. Goodbye Bob, from Iona I must leave you in a hurry for Glasgow-Prestwick in order to embark myself towards the radical conference in New York. Presbyterianally yours, Abigail

Prestwick, the last stop-by of the great Atlantic radical jump, in the terabus’ cockpit commander Marco Pannella Mark was of customary seating on the left with copilot Emma Bonino to his right squacking

- Ztop that Is haz been thirty years that you pilot with total control! Now I want to pilot myself, casso! I finally want finally to zeat there on the left in order going to the left, casso! Look here at the map: we are in Glazgow and we must go to New York, that iz on the left, casso!, we must turn to the right otherwize we’ll end up in muddy Mozcow as uzual!

In his infinite wisdom commander Pannella - aware that the time had came to leave the cloche -, unusually for him with no further words swapped place to give them both, the seat and the cloche, to Bonino on flight 911 to New York.