What is that?
Kipper, a shiny skinned creature that sat near me in the office was walking past and couldn't help but stop and stare at my coffee cup.
His face was all rumply as if he was having that dream of catching me riding his mother like a fairground donkey again.
It's a Cortado.
I sighed with a long-suffering expression. It seemed like it was going to be one of those days.
Kipper barked like a husky dancing around a crevasse in the endless icy snow.
ha! Huskies can't bark 
You know, of course, that 'Cortado' literally means 'woman's drink' in Italian.
Said Kipper contemptuously, staring at my little paper cup.
No it fucking doesn't, you fanny?
I said equality as contemptuously.
It fucking does, I used to be a baristro in a coffee shop.
Kipper had raised his voice as if to attract a crowd to the Humiliating BoomDawg Show.
Indeed a few people were watching avidly.
Oh my god, mate. It's BARISTA. NOT baristro!?
I said, upping my voice to match his.
It's baristro! AND it is a woman's drink!!
Kipper's voice got even louder.
I decided to be the diplomat and motioned my arms up and down as if securing the saddle on his mother's back.
Alright man, let's settle this like gentlemen. Look, there Dario, he's Italian. Ask him what it means.
I smiled placatingly at Kipper who had gone a bit red.
He looked simultaneously triumphant and relieved like a starving fox finding a dead Pigeon. He turned to Dario, one of the DBA's, as he walked past.
Hey, Dario. Can you tell us what Cortado means in Italian?
Dario jerked to a stop.
How would I fucking know, I'm not Italian!?
He growled, shaking his big Italian looking fist at Kipper.
I snorted back a laugh at Kippers sudden look of terror.
Better watch yourself mate, that's racism or something.