I’m gonna file a complaint you cannot entertain

By | November 9, 2007

The Manager
The Tudor Inn & Blair Victoria Hotel

Dear Signore Direttore,

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

I am comma from Roma as tourist to London and stay as a younga 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 calls down to the receptione and tella: “I wanta shit in my bed.” They tella me: “Go to toilet.” I say: “No, I wanta 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 restorante. I order bacon and eggs and two pissis of toast. I getta only one piss of toast. I tella waitress and pointa to toast: “I wanna piss.” She tells me: “Go to toilet!” I say: ” No, no, I wanta piss on the plate.” She then says to me: “You bloody hell not piss on the plate! You sonnawabitch.” “What is sonnawabitch?”

Later I go for dinner in your restorante again. Spoon and nife is laid out but no fock. I tella waitress: “I wanta fock” and she tella me: “Sure, everyone wanna fock!” I tella her: “No, no… You don’t understand me. I wanta 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 reception and ask for bill. I no wanna stay in this bloody hotella no more. When I paid the bills, the porter said 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 your hotella no more, you sonnawabitch.”

Thank you.

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