The manager
Y.M.C.A Hotel
London

Dear signore Directore

Now I 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 ****' in my bed.
How can I sleep with no ****' in my bed? So I call down to receptione and tella:
"I wanta ****' in my bed."

They say: "You better not **** in your bed, you sonna-wa-bitch"
What is sonna-wa-bitch?

I go down for breakfast into ristorante. I order bacon and egga and to 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:"Oh no, I wanta piss on the my plate.
" She then say to me:
"You'd bloody wella not 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 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 to, you sonna-wa-bitch. I go back to Italy.
I never more comma stay in your hotella no more,
you sonna-wa-bitch."

Sincerely,
Giovani Morelli.