"What kind of car did they say she had?" asked Genziano twitching and writhing "A Volkswagon Jetta," I replied "It's her. It's definitely her," he said, "lets go to see her, Nicola, in the hospital." But Marina, the landlady, soon put a stop to the idea "No No. The hospital will not let you two in, especially not you, Nicola!" she said She was referring, I think, to my black hat "Well, let's go to the night, then, Nicola Come on," said Genziano. So off we went in my car after Marina, as usual, had counted Genziano's money.It is strange to find such a place as this night in the middle of nowhere. It is even stranger to discover what creatures lurk within its small, dimly-lit spaces and alcoves One regular is a chain-smoking doctor. The barman, Fabio, is about 30, bald, fat, short and a fascist. The barmaid, Marina, also about 30, is Russian and has a mean face and cropped blond hair.

Early on in the Nato bombing of Serbia, she insisted I drink a B- 52 - a vile brown cocktail which is set fire to You drink it via a straw through the flames I nearly went up in flames. I am sure that is what she wanted to happen to the English warmonger in her midst.With the war on, it is safer to order drinks from Fabio He knows I am writing about his beloved Duce. He went through his usual ritual: Roman salute, click of the heels and misquote of Mussolini: "Better to live one day as a lion than one hundred as a sheep." I used to correct him: "One hundred years as a sheep." But I have given up. Then he prepared me the usual very strong Vodka Russian - 10,000 lire (pounds 3.50) which always has me thinking not bad by English standards.Genziano disappeared to an even more dimly-lit bit of the night with one of the hostesses - not Terry As I had feared, there was no sign of her. Vodka in hand, I studied the scene around me - the hostesses Nearly all come from former Eastern bloc countries Most are in their 20s. Like the grey squirrel, the Eastern European girls have forced out the Italian girls - the native red - even in remotest Meldola. Each girl is paid 150,000 lire (pounds 50) a night by the management - more if, like Terry, they strip as well.

"For these girls that is a fortune, not us," Simona, one of the few native reds left, tells me Simona is from Como, in the far north "What do you tell your parents you do?" I asked her once "That I'm a nurse," she said We both laughed. For it is true.Somewhere in the dimness I could hear Genziano writhing and wrestling about with his night nurse. Near me I could see Daisy the Bulgarian, Veronica the Czech and my favourite, Sharon the Croat - over six feet tall with blond hair down to her waist, a real warrior I decided to talk to her. Talk, however, costs money - 30,000 lire (pounds 10) for a hostess's drink every 20 minutes. As usual, Sharon the Croat ordered a Messicano - a glass of water with a cherry in it.

Many men see red when forced to fork out pounds 10 for a shot of water. The Messicano causes many rows in the Meldola night.Sharon's real name is Jasna. She is a 30-year-old farmer's daughter and she knows the Serbs better than most "Bad people Very bad," she said "What's going to happen in the war?" I asked. "Either it finishes soon or it is World War Three," she replied "But the Russians have no money," I said Sharon the Croat said nothing But she had a big frown on her fine forehead Eventually, Genziano came back - looking dishevelled.

Somehow all his money had found its way from his wallet into one of his shoes, which was now in Giorgio the boss's hand. Giorgio put the shoe on the bar and extracted what Genziano owed It was time to go So off we went writhing and wrestling into the night Nobody had mentioned Terry I hope she is back soon Genziano will be, I am sure. "I'm building a third Cinquecento," he told me on the way home "This one's in my name."NICHOLAS FARRELL. Spring is in the air in Manhattan, the trees are in blossom, the sun is out and who do New Yorkers give the credit to for all this beauty and wonder? President Bill Clinton. Amazing though it may seem, this man can do no wrong, and no matter how many judges find him guilty, whether he's dropping his pants or dropping bombs, nothing sticks to him This man is a miracle.