"Dear Signore Dirrettore,
Now I am tella you a story how I was treated at your hotella. I am comma from Roma as tourist to London and stay as 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 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 waitress, and pointa of toast: 'I wanna piss'. She tella me 'go to toilet'. I say: 'No, no. I wanna piss on my plate!'. She then say to me: 'You bloody hella not piss on the plate, you 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 everybody wanna fock!' I tella her: 'no no. You dont
understand me. I wanna fock on the table!' She tella me: 'So you sonnawabitch wanna fock on the table? Get your ass outa 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 portier say to me: 'Thank you and peace on you'. I say: 'Piss on you too, you sonnawabitch! I go back to Italy! I never comma stay at your hotella,' your sonnawabitch!"