Sunday, April 02, 2006


I go for dinner in your ristorante. Spoon and knife is laid out, but no fock. I tella waitress: "I wanta fock." And she tella me: "Sure, everyone wanta fock." I tella her: "No, no you don't understanda me, I wanta fock on the table." She tella me: "So you sonna-wa-bitch wanta fock on the table? Get your ass out of here!"
How comma this christian hotella tella the quest in such bed manner? So I got to receptione and ask for bill. I no wanta stay in this hotella no more. When I have paid the a-billa the portier say to me: "Thank you, and piss on You." I say: "Piss on you too, you sonna-wa-bitch, I now go back to Italy."
Direttore, I never gonna stay in your hotella no more, you sonna-wa-bitch.