Tinto brass mon amour

Vincent Tinto | Speaking Fee | Booking Agent

Yesterday I slipped on black ice. Full cartoon moment. Legs in the air, dignity in another postcode. I lay there for a second doing a very serious internal assessment: “Am I hurt… or am I just embarrassed?” And it hit me. I’m still at the lovely age where a fall is “bloody hell that was close” and not “this is… the fall.” You know the one. The fall that gets mentioned at Christmas. The fall that changes shoe choices. The fall that becomes part of your personality. So I got up, laughed, carried o

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