A small kiosk is located near to the parade of commercial offerings stretching off into the distance, which make up the Business District of Detroit. A balding gent with an aquiline nose and a strong forehead is sat within. The sign over the door reads "TitusFlavio's Tour of Detroit". It looks as if another city name might have been written beneath and had been hastily painted over but you could be sure. 

Beside the kiosk is a strapping young gelding, with a long chestnut mane, politely munching on the road dirt. It is clearly well cared for and you might even go as far as to say it was someone's favourite horse.

As you approach the kiosk, inadvertently really, the man calls out to you and hastily makes his way around to face you.

Ave, Citizen. Ave! Welcome to Detroit. A place of splendour, have no doubt. This great city continues to grow day by day and our affluent business district is the envy of the rest of the country. Much better than the piss they call alehouses in New York, that's for sure. Anyway. I guess that is why you're here, right? To take in the sights?

This was starting to feel like a sales pitch.

Ha ha ha! I knew it, my friend. I knew it! After all, we do have everything here in Detroit, don't we? He doesn't wait for an answer. From a tatty old breakfast van to a verdant park with a small duck pond.

The man wraps one of his arms around your shoulders and guides you towards the nearest establishment. It looked like a rather seedy gentleman's club and there was smoke billowing out of the front door which was either from a fire or the cigar smoke of less than reputable characters.

Where could you go wrong with a place like this, eh? He gestures vaguely towards the smoke. Char-grilled, right? HA. TitusFlavio knows these things. No, no, no. You don't want this my friend. You want something better. You want something magnificent. Nobody comes to Detroit for that, that....that New York shittery. No, no. We can do better. What is it you want, huh? You don't know?

He gives an indulgent laugh over your awkward non-committal shrug of the shoulders.

A trip to a mysterious complex in the mountains more your thing? This is accompanied with a conspiratorial whisper. Or egg noodle soup out of a van? A gesture towards an old van which looked only capable of making food less appetising than the horse's dinner. Secondary smoke damage to your lungs from one of the many generic lounges that make up the bulk of our eateries instead then? A hand raised towards the smoke-pit. It is tough eh? The choices, unfortunately, are endless and that's where your old buddy TitusFlavio (that's me), a wink, steps in to give you a helping hand.

You see, my friend, TitusFlavio knows all the answers to your burning questions. Is it really wise to eat egg noodle soup out of a van before 9am? Should you eat your own body weight in candy? Should you feed the ducks in Mezzo park? Of course you shouldn't, those things will take a HAND. I knew a man once, a tragedy. One-hand-Harry we called him, do you know why? Well, come to think of it, that isn't a good story. Forget I said anything. Speak of it to no-one. Anyway, here, here. He pushes you towards the horse. Wait there whilst I hitch the cart to the back of Yaoyorozu here, and I'll take you through town and point out all of the best places. No, no, you wait. I'll be just a minute. You need TitusFlavio's help. You don't want to spend the whole of your visit sampling the fine porcelain of our shitters, do you?  

The cart was more rickshaw than fine carriage. It had two large wheels set with spokes, which had been painted at some point previously and bore the scars from many journeys, set around two wooden beams which hitched to the harness across the horse, Yaoyorozu's, back. A thin cushion had been set upon the seat to support the royal arse of the patron and it was an insult to threadbare. The journey was made all the more uncomfortable as TitusFlavio climbed up besides you and draped his arm across your shoulders. 

My friend, you've made a wonderful choice. Seeing the sights of Detroit in the company of TitusFlavio is like breaking bread at the last supper with Judas himself. Or maybe Jesus. One of the J's, anyway. See, I know all there is to know about this place. Myself and Yaoyorozu here, my favourite horse named in honour of a fine colleague of mine, have walked these streets many a time. Eaten in every diner. Drank from every jug. Pissed in every alley. Trust me, you're in good hands.

He gives a low whistle and the horse starts a gentle trot forwards towards the start of the Business District. Now. You pay by the hour, understand? Good. But seriously, this will be the best money you've spent. You'll want to pay me more at the end of the tour, I promise. And, TitusFlavio never lies. The falsest of false smiles. Ahh....our first venue is just here on the right.                      

The Mad Hatter. Flavio seemed to be reading from the signage, rather than saying it with any actual knowledge as the cart passed it by without stopping. A terrible place, my friend. You don't want to go there. Who needs a hat? The sun warms the glorious bald pate of TitusFlavio as the Gods always intended. It is good for you. Healthy, and the women love it. No, we don't want to go there. What we want is....there!

Flavio pulls on the horse's reigns bringing the gelding, Yaoyorozu, to a halt.

Now this place, this place is good. Mick is an old friend of TitusFlavio. He will help us fit you out in something fancy, much better than that trash you're wearing now. What is that? I would probably not leave the house dressed like that again, my friend. 

You look up at the fascia, "Mick's Tailoring", and you're pretty sure the place is deserted. Flavio is insistent though and drags you inside. There were five chairs on the left and five chairs on the right side of the building, with a counter straight ahead. There was an ancient looking tailor standing there, almost as if he hadn't made anything in nearly 12 years, and another man with the skin drawn so tight over his face he looked like a skull with eyes. 

Hey, you! What are you doing here? Mick, who is this clown? What's he doing here? Ha ha, I kid my friend, I kid. TitusFlavio is a known joker. I am glad you have a patron. And this, he wags a fat finger towards the counter as he approaches, wrapping his arm around the tailor's shoulders. This is Mick, the best tailor in Detroit. I actually thought he was dead for a time, but no. Business was just slow eh? EH? A nudge to the ribs of Mick who seemed less than enthused. Skull-face took this as a chance to run and if you had to guess, you would imagine he was off to post in more old threads for the VIP points.

Now, Michael. A suit for my friend here. Flavio comes back to you leaning close. I have got you a good deal, Mick is a saint. His work is perfection. You'll love it. People will see you and say, 'you know TitusFlavio?!' ha ha. No, I kid. They'll like it though. Very beautiful. You get my discount here, no question's asked. It'll be on your bill at the end. Now, go. Get fitted. I'll meet you back on Yaoyorozu. 

Is that not a great suit or is that not a great suit? Ha, I told you my friend, TitusFlavio knows these things. You look fantastic. Better even. People will ask, "where did you get that suit?", then with a wag of a finger, they will realise, "TitusFlavio's tailor!" I promise, my friend. Anyway, anyway, enough cocksucking. You didn't come to me for that, you should be so lucky, eh? Ha, ha. Yaoyorozu, get a load of this guy thinking TitusFlavio was going to look after him. TitusFlavio laughs as he gestures you back into the cart.

Don't worry my friend, I am only teasing you. You've probably heard that about TitusFlavio. I'm a terrible tease. Funny man but terrible tease. Seriously though, great suit. I might be tempted. 

Our next stop, my friend. This is "No Salesman Car Dealership". You are intrigued, correct? How does one operate a car dealership where there are no salesmen? Easy. They let you do all the work! A good grift, eh? Keeps the cost down for the lady owner. I hear she shot the last salesman who tried to sell her a car. Guy still works here apparently. Brave man. Shot on the job and back to work. Type of employee TitusFlavio would like. Maybe I'll offer him a job pulling my cart! Ha! I joke, Yaoyorozu, I joke! The gelding stamped a hoof disdainfully.

You go on in, now. See what they have to sell you. Or you sell yourself. You can get a Ford, Chevrolet, Porsche even. Compensate for lacking in other areas, eh? Ha. Nothing so flash as Yaoyorozu though, my friend, I'm sorry,. They sell horse power not actual horses. Did you think they sell horses? Ha, ha. You are foolish. TitusFlavio would not bring you to a horse trader where you could get a beast like, Yaoyorozu? That is a good joke. TitusFlavio spits on the ground in front of you. I would die before I let anyone get an animal like this. Remember that. Now, have a look at some cars, remember TitusFlavio is paid by the hour so please take as long as you want.