This is reminding me of a couple of characters who I came across in Sheffield and then later in Val di Mello, a decade or more ago. The Italian Stallion was short, vigorous and so named because no female appeared to be immune to his charms, or spared his attentions. He would drink long into the night, sleep out on a bouldering pad, chat up the campsite owners daughter in order to not have to pay and then climb furiously and red-faced until he dropped. His sidekick Stefano was quiet, almost professorial, and obviously the real madman in the operation. His climbing style was languid and Boysenesque, and he equally causally explained that soloing routes in the 7's on the Marmolada south face was not that difficult, per se, when you were solid at flashing 8a sport. What would kill you he said, was going off route. I bumped into Stefano in Chulilla a few years back, he now had a wife and child, and was pleased that he was still alive.
