The Festival is devoted to the noble and nomadic authors of satire. Do you feel like a noble and nomadic author of satire?
I’m a hero-nomaniac of satire. But what do I know? What’s Vincino going around saying? If you mean satirists who don’t sell out, in my enormous laziness I can’t manage to sell out.

But you’re not particularly nomadic.
No, no. And as for satire, no. Today I’m not doing anything for satire.

Your comics are full of satire, even if not in the traditional sense of the term.
Last night I did a little cartoon with a sort of Smurf, a Pazienza-Smurf, and above it is written “I’m Pazienza, the genius of satire”. For Pazienza the genius of the other specialty, the address is always the same. I mean, there can be a variety of styles, but then there’s always a common, unified atmosphere. The important thing is not to work with your head or with your hands, but with your solar plexus, pushing yourself and your work forward with your gut. Miller writes it, talking about Kerouac, whom I don’t like at all: if this marvelous mechanism gets going, whoever reads you notices it automatically. Between two cartoons with minimal differences, with the same captions, there can be an abyss.

And satire?
It absolutely can’t be done either with your head or with your hand. Beautiful drawings are of no use in satire. Just as a merely amusing joke is of no use. Here, as in other disciplines, what matters is to stir, to evoke, in short to work with your gut. But I’m not a political satirist. And in my opinion holding satire festivals is absurd. Maybe this festival is worthwhile precisely for its absurdity. Satire has become the court jester. And I’m more of a jester than the others. Then there are great masters.

Who are they?
The greatest is Vincino. His book on Montecitorio is splendid.

Is your irregularity at work due only to laziness, or is it a precise calculation?
When you work with your gut you can’t plan. I spend months doing nothing and then ten days of nonstop work. I feel as if I have a bank account. I don’t have a penny in the bank, but it’s as if I did. I’m not a passenger in life. And then I’m not ambitious. And then now I feel very close to death. And this comes from the enormous self-confidence I have. Because when I need money I get to work.