Grils Making Out Vinigina Tits

San Crispino forever / Part

Read the first part

Part Two (The factor Farm)

At this point the die is cast, and grandfather is petrified because she knows well that will have to await the end of the spot to say something else just as deep and above all they must do it with that of his nephew breaks chestnuts. Yes, it is unlikely to break free from the power of those little hands smeared boogers and nutella and just as unlikely to hope for an early death for investment. The road is not there in front of the A4 motorway, in fact it is not even on maps, is a simple furrow in time by divine studded tires of St. Crispin. Therefore futile to hope for the grandfather in some other transit van.

The line then goes to a kind of thin that Bud Spencer sitting on the hood of a tractor exclaims

"We are more than three thousand!"

Three thousand farmers all sitting on the hood of a tractor from morning to night, because it is obvious from the image next to work only three old men, who come back tired and sweaty from the fields to which they had left early to get dead tired at three in the afternoon . Fortunately, after a worker enters a real, and possible wife of Bud Spencer thin, sitting on a stool which bombards the hens with bread crumbs and saliva. Bread and saliva? Yes On the other hand, the woman says "cultivate the land" , not we feed the chickens.

Hens that are the sole support of another old man who appears smiling soon after. Not so much for the hens in itself, but because to him the bread crumbs with saliva like crazy. In fact, outside shot makes hoarding hiding (the Chip & Dale) in the hollow of a tree trunk. (Continued)

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San Crispino forever / Part

A clear sign of changing times is undoubtedly the fact that when you replace the advertising and you're forced rifarti idea of \u200b\u200ball: the product, and the actors used in commercials, soundtracks and so on and so on. All this obviously takes quite a commitment of time and assimilation, which may vary from person in person, but are often inversely proportional to the age of who is in front of the television screen: the grandmothers are often faster than their grandchildren because of time spent in front of the carousel fossilize commercials of all time slots.

After this enlightening explanation (or slop) without pseudo-source (who knows maybe one studietto across the Channel have also done ...) and not clinically tested on anyone back on the right path for you to note that recently we lost those two bontemponi of San Crispino . Like what? The two guests on Sunday, those who fall in the middle room in the basement to get the wine. Cardboard.

"But you keep the brick in the wine here?" Said host to host finding surprised that they held the cardboard wine aging in place.

"Eh, is a wine taste ... hear that! "replied the wise the landlord failing to be polite and menacing at the same time, in style " Misery .

These two have given way to something much more artistic. In a spot that seems to come out straight from the Italian Renaissance . The you've no doubt seen, but I will describe the same through my child's eyes thirty.

Part One (The child's grandfather el'ectoplasma)

The child comes running. Despite the heat. Despite the hellish stench of fermentation. Despite the dozens of flies that are squashed in the tonsils. He saw the van of St. Crispin and end of the world wants to be the first to warn his grandfather.

"Grandpa, Grandpa is San Crispino" yells in timpani snatch the bell Amplifon that always surrounds a mo 'of plastic wrap.

His grandfather, taken aback by the attack-bite child-van, immediately becomes colored by fear and mozzarella burst instantly if it were not already dead in 1981, hit by a cart of Robiola Osella crazy. Raising his eyes from shooting ectoplasm actually see San Crispino speed past with the sunglasses and the arm out the window of the van and can not help but show off a smile sofficino & cheese taste bitterness while some incoherent words to come out unconsciously of mouth:

"It 's our wine said before taken in full from the dust of the holy divine unleashed from the van. (Segue!)

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