This isn’t a usual Wednesday morning. It’s 10am and I’m aproned-up and standing next to a small marble-topped kitchen table attempting to strangle a priest.
I perfect the technique surprisingly fast. It feels awkward at first, but after a few brisk flicks of the wrist, the deed is done. It was easier than I thought, and I take a moment to reflect on my achievement, letting the mid-morning Italian sunshine bathe my face in its warm glow while the soothing sound of jazz tinkles from a small radio in the next room.
