A man who is literally two-faced

The marketing department is producing another catalogue. Catalogues are such protracted projects that the experience is quite stressful – there are so many things that can go wrong. This one is at a fairly advanced stage, and we are all sick of it.

Most sales literature we write and design ourselves, using InDesign (I would have preferred Quark Express but was over-ruled by the IT department, a decision that still rankles). However, with this catalogue we are using outside designers and printers. This means frequent trips out of the office to Marcomm Solutions, run by Riccardo Vacca and his partner Paolo Borghetti (Riccardo runs the printing side, Paolo does the design work). I have known them for some time, and when I moved to my present job I replaced the existing printers with Marcomm Solutions.

Paolo is a man who is literally two-faced. His right profile is very handsome and aquiline, like a hero from the Elgin marbles. The other side of his face is like an ugly, grimacing little ape. He is a short man, aged about thirty, with a tremendous physique so that when he is sitting down he resembles a broad-shouldered giant. Only when he gets up does his small stature become apparent (he wears boots with high heels, but these just make him look silly, and accentuate his bandy legs so that he waddles when he walks). He is very dark-skinned, and hates to be confused with someone from the middle east. His hair is black and short, but one eyebrow is grey so that I wonder whether the rest of his hair is dyed.

Both Paolo and Riccardo are the children of prisoners-of-war who decided to stay on after 1945 and bring their families over from Naples. They are very proud of their Italian heritage, and both play in a football team made up from the Italian community in London. Paolo is always being injured in football matches, no doubt because of his short stature and his aggressive and abusive shouting.

This morning they were describing a stag-night over the weekend for one of their team members. It took place in a big room over an Italian restaurant in the Newark Road. The main feature of this dinner was a live performance by naked dancers, culminating in an act of copulation between one of the women dancers and the sole male performer. Paolo covered his eyes with his hand when he described this incident, and said he had been disgusted by it all (but he winked and grinned at Fabio, one of the print machine operatives who was in the studio at the time, lounging against a drawing board).

Paolo is also very sensitive, and his eyes fill with tears whenever he talks about his parents or his many brothers. Both Paolo and Riccardo are family-orientated, and seem to have hundreds of relations. Whenever any family members are in the office they are always brought in to be introduced to me. I once ran into Paolo at the entrance to Tescos – I was in a hurry but he insisted on introducing his partner, a fair-haired English girl who looked very practical and down-to-earth. We stood there for ages, chatting about nothing, until I could get away.

Occasionally while I am in the Marcomm studio Paolo takes calls from other clients, talks respectfully and quietly to them, and then when the call is over swears and shouts violently. I suspect I am similarly insulted behind my back whenever I make last-minute alterations and amendments.