The Sensuous Nurse (L'infermiera)

No, no, no, don't worry!

Even though it starts back there, it's an amusing story.

Please let me introduce myself:

I'm the idiot who left the wipers on,

Mr Leonida Bottacin.

A man of honest virtues.

Enlightened entrepreneur.

Age: somethingtwo.

Widower.

Understand? A widower.

And it's for this reason alone that the story

started in such a mournful place.

Because you need to know that from the day

my incomparable consort was cruelly

stolen from me by adverse destiny

I came here unconsoled and inconsolable every

Wednesday and Saturday to bring flowers to her grave.

Please note the fresh lilies.

And given that it was a Wednesdayon being informed

by the gravedigger's wife by phone that I felt ill,

my loving, kind but dismayed nephews

quickly abandoned their serious duties

and came to succour me at the cemetery.

One beautiful day we'll see

a wisp of smoke rising

at the far edge of the sea.

Rapid and invisible dashes the submersible.

Straight and sound goes the torpedo.

And then the ship appears.

You motherfucker!

Oh, I'm sorry, Benito! Wait while I clean you off. Wait.

Leave it! Don't bother.

Look at that other idiot, he's flattening the battery.

Bringing flowers for poor auntie's fine,

but not in the rain.

Hope he has a heart attack, old fool.

He comes less often now.

You remember when she died he brought flowers every day.

And lilies, not just daisies.

5 years of lilies at 1,500 lire each,

it's practically a fortune.

And that tightarse unscrews the light bulbs at home!

Over here, quick! Over here! He's in the house.

Quickly, for god's sake, quickly!

Uncle Leonidal!

Take him away, there's no time to waste. Quickly!

How do you feel? What's the problem?

Who brought him here?

He came on foot. He knew the way.

Oh, so he felt bad at aunt's grave

and came here to ask for help.

To be honest, he was as fine as ever when he arrived.

So? So you've got to take him away.

Right now!

My dear woman we can't treat him badly.

He's had a heart attack, he needs an ambulance!

But my husband's on his way!

Your husband... Your husband will understand!

And if he understands he'll give us a beating.

Pussy, boner, pussy...

Poor man, he liked it a lot.

My nephews decided it was obviously

best not to wait for an ambulance.

They threw me in the car and

concealing the reason for my illness from everyone

they took me home.

And here while Dr Pavan was treating my body

Father Attilio after having read the Last Rites

desperately tried to save my soul with a Rosary.

All our servants were there: Nane and Tosca.

My poor Ramona's three nephews,

children of one of her brothers who died in Albania:

Gustavo, a retired soldier;

naughty Me;

and ltalia, the youngest,

who having married the expert genologist Benito Marroto

had unfortunately brought him home too.

This one crying is Adone,

the son of Me

and somebody...

who preferred to remain incognito.

Pussy, boner, pussy...

Did he say something?

I didn't hear.

Sounded like it to me.

Pussy, boner...

.. . Ramona? Ramona! Ramona!

Yes, poor aunt Ramona! He called her Mona.

Oh yes, Mona...

Pussy, boner...

Doctor, tell us for god's sake!

Well, sadly there's not much to say.

It's unlikely he'll survive the night.

Isn't there anything for it?

Pray.

And what was I doing?

Benito Varotto,

expert oenologist for Bottacin & Co.

Yes, Mr Kitch. Can I speak to him? Thank you.

Come, come!

Mr Kitch, good night. No, I don't speak English.

Remember me? Benito Varotto?

No, not Cagotto, Varotto!

Too kind...

Listen,

can we talk about that thing again?

Still interested? Oh, good, good!

No, in truth the gentleman hasn't changed his mind,

he's, he's... Changing his life!

He's changing his life?

No, he's at the point of death, poor man.

You know: today here, gone tomorrow...

Tomorrow morning's fine!

You'll come to the firm, I'll expect you.

Nane?

Yes? I'm scared.

Who's going to come at this hour?

That's why I'm scared! You could be a brute.

Oh, don't break my balls.

Lets have a drink while the old man's still breathing.

Bastards! Looters!

VINEYARD COMM. LEONIDA BOTTACIN &CO.

VIN EYARD BOTTACI N & VAROTTO

Nothing for me?

If you want a drink you must stick to the deal.

No, it's too cold here!

The wine will heat you up!

So, I'll have a drink first.

Oh no, my dear!

You won't cheat me.

A quick bang first. No.

Give it to me.

It's really good.

Now see how good this is.

It's like fire!

Tosca, look. Look, Tosca!

Let me taste it.

No.

The blouse...

No!

Some more...

What are you doing? You're spilling all of it.

Ah, this is the best of all.

Another one?

Yes, another one.

I've got the shoes.

Oh no, my dear! The shoes are not included,

now it's the knickers' turn.

No, no, no. The knickers, no!

The knickers, no!

Well, the bar's closed then.

I told you no looking.

A litre a bang?

Are you drunk? Always!

Hands off, you rude man!

Two litres! I said no!

Three litres!

Oh, you maniac!

I'll give you "maniac"!

Butterfly, butterfly?

Where are you going, butterfly?

All nude and naughty,

there's a hornet coming

with his big sting.

A bang.

A bang!

Just one bang.

A bang!

Oh, Mr Benito!

Oh, it's the butterfly.

Run home now!

Shameless woman!

Whore“.!

You're always drunk. Come here!

You're a thief, thief, thief.

Now the old man's dying you'll see...

Oh right, but we were having a little orgy.

I'll give you an orgy! Go away!

Go home now!!

Thank you, Mr Kitch.

As I was saying, we sole heirs...

Thanks a lot.

We sole heirs

have always liked your idea,

Mr Kitch.

The participation of your company

at the capital level

could open up the international market for us.

So Bottacin &Co would be transformed

into a leading company in the sector, agreed?

Poor Mr Bottacin couldn't understand.

He had the oldfashioned mentality

of oldtime entrepreneurs,

with all due respect to his efforts.

While it was you in the multinationals

who made us understand we could no longer survive as

artisans, because the consumers want to consume, right?

The vintage wine lover

is becoming ever rarer.

Today people prefer quantity to quality,