I'm happy to facilitate a guessing game until the end of the week if that's what you're after.
Get a cuppa.
In 2015 a 16 year old Sicilian, Maurice, came to Bristol to study English history at one of the many fine colleges. Between lectures he would tour the museums and attempt to improve his very poor English. To fund this adventure, he found work as a pizza artisan in a restaurant which claimed to be authentic Italian but was owned by a red-necked, bigoted , ****hole of a man (you know the type). Maurice was a great find and business boomed, giving an authenticity previously lacking. As this work started to develop Maurice's muscles, and his olive-skinned tone reflected in the wood-fired ovens, Maurice also became a great hit with the ladies of Bristol. His few words of English (I ama the Maurice with a Parisian dialect) rang around the restaurant as he span his dough with only the flourish and skill a Sicilian could manage, whilst bigot man enjoyed the profits. His hatred of Maurice intensified and he vowed vengeance.
Moving on to the start of covid, and shutdowns began and the effects of "the vote", Maurice thought, time to go home. Bigot man in an unexpected moment of kindness bought him a bus ticket to get to Portsmouth to catch one of the last ferries available for some time. Maurice quickly packed and rushed to the bus station, only on arrival to find biggoty had found a ticket for yesterday's bus. Destitute and on the street, his English never needed to improve. Inarticulate, he sat in a car park and almost cried. By fortune Mr D Simpkins happened to be passing. A kind man by nature (to be amended later?) he recognised Maurice, as pizza was one of his family's passions and the restaurant was regularly visited.
Seeing the mess that Maurice was in they took him in, but as the times were uncertain, secretly. Maurice was given the garage to live in, a bed, small kitchenette, and a wood-fired pizza oven with chimney were installed. Happy with his redemption Maurice set to work producing the best pizzas of his life. The neighbours, unhappy with the carcinogenic wood smoke, were pacified by the bread-based treats being exported from the Simpkins residence, although they had no idea how!
To improve his English Maurice was given a CD,
Divine Comedy's Greatest Hits, which unfortunately contained the tracks
National Express and
There's something in the Woodshed. These started to prey on Maurice's mind, and with his knowledge of Bristol's rise of wealth and history and longing to return to Sicily, decided that when all the restrictions were over he'd be off, although thankful for the civility shown to him. This was also exacerbated by the fact that Mr D owing to "the vote" was now unable to access the right ingredients needed for the quality of pizza required by Maurice; Dairylea and ketchup and inferior flour just don't cut it.
The neighbours, now bereft of their snacks, started questioning the pollution. Fortunately Mr D bought an MG4 and the wood oven went and was replaced by an electric one, which was run by the V2L from the new car which of course could not access the garage. Unfortunately the ingredient problem was insurmountable and Maurice packed his bags, leaving the CD. Mrs D, distraught, decided that some of the pizza profits would go to a classic Italian car to be kept as a keepsake to the memory of Maurice (a name they always pronounced with a northern twang), so she bought a 1980s Morris Ital 1.3 in beige (like the dough) and that now takes pride of place in its cosy oven-heated garage.
