A long time ago, in the beautiful Italian town of Verona, lived two families, the Montagues and the Capulets. They led a peaceful life, with the Montagues on the east and Capulets the west. The families were the landlords of the town, with wealth and fame and status amongst the highest of Italy. They got on well with each other, and often met up for a night out, especially the younger ones.
As usual on a Friday night, after a day of hard work collecting taxes from the serfs, the families met for a drink in a local pub, having a casual chat about the week and stuff. All was going well until some moaning was heard. It was apparent that young handsome and flamboyant Hugo Montague had broken up with yet another girlfriend. They counted and figured it was his thirtieth since Christmas. The moaning got louder and louder and eventually turned to tears. He order dozen after dozen of shots and downed them in a gulp. The people sensed trouble coming and left in a hurry.
Nightfall came, nothing happened, and the whole town went to bed in peace. Except for poor Hugo Montague. He was drunk as a pig and had trouble standing up. It took him the better part of the night to get out of the pub and he wandered on the streets before coming to the Capulets’ mansion. He peed on their front door because he felt like it and that’s what drunkards do. He took his time and let everything out in a slow, gentle yet steady stream. The vile odour of urine reached the