Nozzer in Rome.

Ancient Rome, about 0 BC

“Oi Nozzer, what you at mate?” Mark Anthony shouted above the clamour of a busy Rome morning.

“Off down the Colloseum Tone,” Nostradamous replied, “They got some new Gaulish Mead and a new batch of Angle slaves.”

“Sounds good, I’ll tell Julie,” Mark Anthony replied.

“Call me Julie again and your head will join those of the Huns on the spikes above the city gates,” Julius Ceasar chipped in.

“All right keep your crown on,” Mark Anthony replied, “Do you reckon they got any virgins Nozzer?”

“Six weeks in a boat with a bunch of randy Oarsmen, I don’t think so,” Nozzer replied, “More like Oars, anyway the came from what the Angles call “Es Sex” what ever that is.”

“Right,” Mark Anthony agreed.

“Anyway I thought you had a regular bunk up with Cleo?” Nozzer continued.

“Oh yeah, great, great compexion, great in the sack but she bathes in donkey milk and stinks like a bloody donkey,” Mark Anthony replied.

“Can’t have it all,” Nozzer laughed, “See you later right?”

Nozzer called in on his mate Michael Angelo on his way to the Colloseum, “Mikey how you doing mate?” he called.

High above the floor of the Sistine Chapel Mikey was lying on a scaffold board having a kip and sleping off a heavy night on the mead and ale.

“Diminu – bloody – endo,” Mikey replied, “Keep the racket down. Me heads splitting mate.”

“It’s the paint mate, you want to use lead not cow dung,” Nozzer suggested, “Anyway it was only supposed to take a week, two coats of briliant white they said.”

“Mate, they are paying by the day and they like my graffiti,” Mikey explained, “Money for old rope like.”

“All right for some,” Nozzer replied, “You hear about Pisa Lighthouse?”

“Every fucking body heard about Pisa lighthouse, started keeling over so they put a twist in it,” Mikey sighed, “Just fuck off and do some Philosopherising or what ever it is you do.”

“Charming,” Nozzer agreed, “Fuck you too.”

The Colloseum was busy, every cunt and his mate was there eyeing up the new slaves.

Some was naked, the Angles and Gauls was so pale they needed browning up to be fanciable, but the Arabians had to be kept under cover or they blacked up, most was shackled together but some was in individual wooden cages.

“What’s the point of that?” Nozzer asked some random bloke.

“From Greece, fucking Lesbos,” he said.

“From Lesbos or are they Lesbo’s?” Nozzer asked.

“Twat,” the bloke answered, “Anyway what can I do you for?”

“Oh a nice bird, say twenty one, blonde, big melons,” Nozzer replied.

“How much you got?” the bloke queried.

“Fifty, fifty five at a push,” Nozzer offered.

“Well you can have her,” he pointed to a beautiful Angle angel, “From Wessex, beautiful girl, fucks like an angel,” he taunted, “For one hour for fifty.”

“I want’s a house slave,” Nozzer explained.

“For fucking fifty, you wanna get real mate,” the bloke replied, “You can have her mum,” he said pointing to a wrinkled old hag.