Picture this:

The trunk of Gino’s Porsche 930 is packed with uncut cocaine he needs to take from Marseille to Rimini in 48 hours for the biggest party of the summer, the police is on his case though, and so is DJ Marcello, who rocks the Mediterranean air-waves with the latest, cheesiest and weirdest disco shit.

Gino is no dodgy dealer, he is the driver, wide lapels, Carrera Aviators surely stuck in his black raven toupee and Lucky Striker dangling from his lips, Sartre meets less than Zero, the Visionary is the awesome sound of his head trip as he speeds down treacherous coastal roads towards a palace of white marble where all the beautiful people spin to trashy and blissful sounds under the silver moon.

[Thanks to 20JFG]