The Manager
Y M C A Hotel
LONDON
Dear Signore Direttore,
Now I am a-tella you story how I was a-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 in my room I see there is no shit in my bed. How
can I sleep with no shit in my bed? So I call down to receptione
and tella: "I wanta shit." they tella me: "Go to toilet." I say:
"No no, I wanta shit in my bed." They say: "You better not shit
in your bed, you sonna-wa-bitch."
What is sonna-wa-bitch?
I go down for brekfast into restorante. I order bacon and egga
and two pissis of toast. I getta only one piss of toast. I tella
waitress and pointa at toast: "I wanta piss." She tella me: "Go
to toilet." I say: "O no, I wanta piss on my plate." She then
say to me: "You'd bloody wella not piss on the plate, you sonna-
wa-bitch." Second person who not even know me calla me sonna-wa-
bitch.
Later I go for dinner in your restorante. 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 do
not understand 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."
So I go to receptione and ask for bill. I no wanta stay in this
hotel no more. When I have paid the a-billa the portier say to
me: "Thank you, and peace on you."
I say: "Piss on you too, you sonna-wa-bitch." I go back to Italy.
I never more comma stay in your hotella no more, you sonna-wa-
bitch.
Sincerely
Enrico Morelli
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