Italian TV Shows have always held a mysterious interest as a budding teenager – now this is not to say I am prone to Italian MILFs or mature ladies but having discovered the joys of Sara Varone I can safely say that Italian TV for me holds a surprise over any man. Is it tha language on idea of Bunga Bunga? Maybe not but of course we all suffer the fatality of a mature stocking clad women praying over the youthful nature of masculinity. Perhaps the language offers a Caligulan temptation of supreme desire or sexual liberation, perhaps the pretty lights and wonderful mature women offering a tantalizing sensual encounter help ignite the inner flames. Who knows?
It could of course be that the desolation felt at the time of exposure to Italian TV is often at times when the soul is low. A bleak holiday in the ravaging coldness of Wales stuck beneath the sheets too warm to go out; the flickering imagery of some exotic sun filled landscape offered me a chance to escape into the warmth and sensuality of Italian TV.
A drunken encounter, a fumbles dram, staggering into secluded dismal hotels miles from all comfort like a prone astronaut alone in the void of space Sara Varone offered me a dream and for that I am grateful.