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 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 sonna-wa-bitch".

What is s o n n a - w a - b i t c h???

I go down for breakfast into ristorante. 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 wanna piss". She tella me: "Go to toilet". I say: "Oh no, I wanta piss on my plate". She then say to me: "You'd better not wella piss on the plate, you sonna-wa-bitch!!!". Second person who do not even know me calla me sonna-wa-bitch.

Later I go for dinner in your ristorante. Spoon and knife is laid out, but there is no fock. I tella waitress: "I wanna fuck". 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 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 go back to Italy. I never more comma stay in your hotella no more. You sonna-wa-bitch...

Yours sincerely
Enrico Morelli