LETTER FROM AN ITALIAN TOURIST


Dear Signor Directore,

Now I am a-tella how I was treated at your hotella.

I am a-comma from Roma as tourist to London and stay as a younga Christian man at your hotella.

When I comma into my room I see there is no shit in my bed. How can I sleep with no shit in my bed? So I calla down to receptione and tella, "I wanna shit!" They tella me, "Go to toilet." I say, "No, No. I wanna shit in my bed." They say, "You better not shit in your bed, you sonnawabitch!" What is a sonnawabitch?

I go down for breakfast into ristorante. I order bacon and eggs and two pissis of toast. I getta only one piss of toast. I tella the waitress, and pointa to toast, "I wanna piss!" She tella me, "Go to toilet." I say, "No, No. I wanna piss on my plate!" "You bloody hella not piss on the plate, you sonnawabitch? The second person who do not even know me calla sonnawabitch! What is a sonnawabitch?

Later I go for dinner in your ristorante. Spoon and knife is laid out, but no fock. I tella waitress, "I wanna fock," and she tella me, "Sure , sure, everyone wanna fock! I tella her, "No, no. You don't understand me. I wanna fock on the table." She tella me, "So you sonnawabitch wanna fock on the table? Get your ass out of here!"

So I go to receptione and ask for bill. I no wanna stay in this hotella no more. When I have paid the billa, the porter say to me, "Thank you, and peace on you."

I say, "Piss on you too, you sonnawabitch! I go back to Italy! I never more comma stay in your hotella no more, you sonnawabitch!."

Sincerely,

Antonio