I went down to the demonstration....

May was in town, so to speak. I felt obliged to at least descend from the Olympian heights of our Fiesole eyrie to cast an eye on the play of mortals in the Piazza.

I photographed the tartan protester, I heard the irate Estuary Englishwoman say, 'It's the ex-pats remoaning', I parlayed the machine-gun toting Carabinieri to snatch photos of the leaving entourage of Maseratis and a Jaguar, the Cabinet stuffed into numbered vans (or at least so I thought).

I caught this little exchange foregrounded by a frontman reporting on the speech. Eat your heart out, Montalbano.