Being Italian is great because it means you have an in-depth knowledge of bizarre pasta shapes, you are not embarrassed to wear fur, there is no need to worry about tax returns and you can be proud of a great military history…well, up to about 400 AD at least.
Being Italian also means you can wear sunglasses indoors and you enjoy political stability. You are also very good at poetry, because it is so easy to rhyme, as all Italian words end in vowels. Even our Italian driver can do it:
“My name is Liuzzi
I am very sexi
Girls all scream and throw their panti.”

Apart from the food, Italy is famous for Opera. Actually this is a dreadful form of entertainment which is why the Milanese built La Scala so that the beauty of the building would take people’s minds off the tedium of what was happening on stage.

For the uninitiated, an opera is a show that starts at 7 in the evening. After it has been going on for three hours, you look at your watch and it says 7.20.

Italy is a good place to buy souvenirs, but we recommend you do not take any Parmesan cheese home with you. It will sweat more than an Italian taxi driver and render your suitcase unusable for the next twelve months. Why not try an Espresso coffee machine instead? It is an attractive purchase and once you have given up trying to understand the instructions and revert to instant coffee, it will make an interesting conversation piece, gathering dust next to the juicer, fresh pasta maker and other kitchen utensils you will never use.

Of course, wherever they are in the championship, this Italian weekend is always all about the Prancing Horse team and to understand why Ferrari really is a religion at Monza, here is a typical Italian joke: A racing driver dies and goes to heaven. He gets bored after a few thousand years and asks St. Peter if he can drive a car again. His request is granted and soon, the driver is whizzing around heaven in a Fiat Panda. Suddenly a red Ferrari with “NA” on its number plate overtakes him at speed. The driver goes to see St. Peter again and says, “I thought everyone was supposed to be equal up here, so how come I’m in a Panda and I’ve just been overtaken by a Ferrari on “Naples” plates. “Listen,” replies St. Peter. “For starters, it’s not from Naples, it’s from Nazareth and secondly the boss’ son can do what he likes.”

2005 Italian Grand Prix - Main Page

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