According to a family legend, I could be 1/32nd Italian, or maybe more. My great great grandfather, John Phillips, was born in Rotherhithe, London. He was a cheesemonger, with a shop on the Tottenham Court Road. But his mother-in-law was Italian, and had a terrible temper. After one huge row with John, she threw all of his account books on the fire, and he went out of business.
I hope this story is true, as it gives me another team to cheer for when England get knocked out of football tournaments early. But of course it could be total nonsense, a bit like this song that I remember hearing when I was a child. This is another "live from the van" session.