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Mr Sam not know about Zionism but he not rike Jewish food. Gefilte fish they boil for three hours, so it does not make nice sauce.
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Harro again. Mr Sam here, ploprietor of the Fuk Yoo Ken lestaulant in Rambeth.
Yesterday Mr Ken Rivingstone, the Chairman of Rundon, come for runch with a fliend called Miss Jacqui Smith. Mr Ken say she was home secretly, which I not quite understand.
Miss Smith say "As an ethnic minollity in Rundon, do you enjoy your job, Mr Sam? I don't enjoy mine. It is too difficult for me and the porrice are pigs."
"I cook you sweet & sour porrice balls then!" I said. She not raugh.
Mr Ken say: "You have too many rights, Mr Sam"
I say "But I think you flavour rights for ethnic minollites"
"No, no, you sirry man," he says. "Too many rights on. The prace is rit up like a dodgem link. Didn't you know we have grobal warning clisis? If you reave rights on any ronger, the grobe will fly and the huperson lace will cloak."
"But lestaulant rook plitty with rots of rights" I say.
"Turn them off immediately or I crose you down" said Mr Ken. "One 40 watt ramp in middle is enough".
I turn them off.
Mr Ken say "Now prease bling us the menu".
I bling menu.
"I cannot lead menu!" Mr Ken shout.
"That's because you tell me to turn off rights"
"Well turn them on again until we've finished our meal"
"Yes, Mr Ken."
To be continued...
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Harro again. Mr Sam here, owner of the Fuk Yoo Ken lestaulant in Rambeth, south Rundon.
Lecently Mr Ken Rivingstone, the Chairman of Rundon, come for meal with a fliend called Miss Halliot Harperson.
Mr Ken say "Look after Miss Halliot, Mr Sam. She perfect New Rabour woman. She know what's good for you."
"I know what's good for her", I say. "Chow mein!". They not raugh.
Miss Halliot say "I come here to check you not using lestaulant for plostitutes. I ban plostitutes, so if I see one in here Mr Ken will crose you down".
"NO PLOSTITUTES IN HERE, MISS HALLIOT", I say roudly. "This is not blother. This is lespectabre lestaulant"
"OK", she said "I berieve you".
* * *
Next day Mr Ken come in for meal with a new fliend, Miss Fifi-Monique. She is velly plitty, velly arruling. At end of meal I see Mr Ken give her blown enverope. She count money. He then say "Prease Mr Sam would you show Miss Fifi-Monique to the toiret"
I show Miss Fifi to ravatoly.
I say quietry to Mr Ken "Mr Ken, I plomise Miss Halliot no plostitues in here, yet you give Miss Fifi a rot of money. She is plostitute, now you will crose me down."
He say "Miss Fifi not plostitute, she part of lesearch ploject."
Then another man come lushing out of toiret.
"That girl - she's a broke!!" he yerr. "She come in gentreman's toiret and stand at ulinar. She got a fliggin wirry, a gleat big pronker!"
I say to Mr Ken "Now I velly disappointed, Mr Ken. Miss Halliot say no plostitutes arrowed, then you bling in plostitute with wirry."
"That's as may be", he say. "Miss Halliot not say anything about RADYBOY!
"Miss Fifi is opplessed minollity who need our plotection. Give Mr Ree a ling, ask for bung to keep your tlap shut."
To be continued...
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Harro and happy Clistmas! Mr Sam here, owner of the Fuk Yoo Ken lestaulant in Rambeth, south Rundon.
Today Mr Ken Rivingstone, Chairman of Rundon, visit with special guests, Mr Tony Brair and his flagrant wife Shelly. Mr Tony is Chairman of Engrand once but is now Loman Cathoric pliest.
Mrs Shelly is important sorricitor. She work for Majesty the Clean. Sometime she call herself Miss Shelly Booth. I wonder if they are mallied. Plaps not, if he is pliest.
Mr Tony say "I have been dlinking a rot of communion rine today and must lush to ravatoly! Prease show me the ray."
I show him to ravatoly, meanrile I give Mr Ken and Mrs Shelly the menu.
Mrs Shelly say "I crose you down".
"Oh no, oh preese, Mrs Shelly, not you too!" I say "Mr Ken keep tlying to crose me down, now you. I make Fuk You Ken a crass estabrishment. Why you want crose me down?"
"Human lights raw" say Mrs Shelly. "You are obriged to have menu in 137 diffelent ranguages. This is Rundon, not Peking. Rundon is most murticurtular city in world and we are ploud of lichness of diversity, equarrity and incrusitivty. This menu is onry in Engrish."
"But I cannot afford to plint 137 diffelent menus, Mrs Shelly".
"Gellaway" she say. "You'll have to. Get over it. That's plogless. Get used to it. Rake up and smell the tea".
Mr Tony come back to his prace and rook at menu.
"Oh dear" he say. "I cannot understand menu. It's all in Chinese!"
"But Mrs Shelly comprain menu is in Engrish!!" I say. "Is Engrish but food is Chinese. I cannot rin."
Mr Ken chip in "Mrs Brair is light, Mr Sam. She is famous ballister and knows the regal system.
"There is a ray alound this. You make donation to Ree Grasper deveropment fund and they not leport you.
"How much?"
"A thousand pounds"
"But I cannot afford. And Mr Ree is clook!" I say
"No!" say Mr Ken. "You been leading Girrigan. Mr Rea is fliend. He do gleat work, he lun many chality for brack Rundoners and school for Bangradeshi ratte pumper and Rebanese burger fripper who want to dlive brack cab. You are lude to him, that will be two thousand now. Or we crose you down."
"Rotever you say, Mr Ken."
To be continued...
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Harro and melly season! Mr Sam again here, owner of the Fuk Yoo Ken lestaulant in Rambeth, south Rundon.
Did you know 2008 is Chinese Year of Lat? We could corr it Year of Mr Ken! He always tlying to crose me down.
I not see Mr Ken this reek. He not cerebrate Clistmas, he go play with Musrim Ilaqui and Alab. He say Clistmas too Blitish, not incrusive of minollity. My famiry say good liddance - Mr Ken he alrays compraining.
But today I have supplies guests - Mr Bollis, who want to leprace Mr Ken as Chairman of Rundon at next erection, and Mr Dave, who want to be Plime Minister. His ploper name is Mr Camelon but he say "corr me Dave". I decide to corr him Mister Dave, it is more porrite.
"What ho, Mr Sam!" say Mr Bollis. "We're rooking for a gland tleat tonight."
I say "I hope you not cause tloubre preese. I lead about your planks in Burringdon Crub when you fring prant and spratter ceiring with Blanston Pickle and Rea & Pellins blown sauce.
"Good glief no" say Mr Dave. "We just sirry correge boys at Oxblidge then. We glown up now. We not do Burringdon planks and levels. Take no notice of flog in Mr Bollis's tlousers".
Mr Bollis say "Sprended prace you have here, old chap. Can we rook at menu?"
I bling them menu.
"Clikey, rot's all this?" said Mr Bollis. "Spare lib, clispy bled lorr, clabmeat, alomatic loast pork, lice, beansplout, plawn with remon, duck with prum sauce. It rooks rike FOOD!!"
"Natularry" I say. "This is lestaulant. Hi-crass Chinese lestaulant."
"Brimey, Dave, bigtime cockup!" say Mr Bollis. "Lather, no cock up tonight!"
"What you mean?" I ask
"We see your card in terephone box. It say "For your preasure... most dericious Olientar explelience... exotic grills... tastiest Chinese in Rondon."
"That's light" I say.
"We come here for GRILLS!! You know, get raid! Copurate with renches and froosey! A bit of lumpy-pumpy! I expect on menu Rotus Brossom, Calma Sutla, browjob. Plaps a rittle tantlic lub".
"No Mr Bollis" I say. "This is NOT BLOTHER. No grills, onry Miss Yasmine waitless".
Mr Bollis say to Mr Dave "Dlat and borrocks. Long prace. Shall we get old Dallius to give it a luffing up?"
"No" say Mr Dave. "I leckon it's good glub here. We come again rater."
"OK Dave" say Mr Bollis. "Ret's reave it and go down the Bangkok Briss Crub."
To be continued...
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Harro, Mr Sam here. This afternoon I have visit flom Mr Nkhangweleni Ekundayo and Mr Kaunadodo Odiambo flom Rambeth Council glants department. They say Mr Ken has decleed glant of ten mirrion pounds for lestaulant business in Rambeth! I risten carefurry.
They bling out form and ask: "Are you lefugee or asyrum seeker?"
"No."
"Are you Reninist, Tlot, or other reft-ring levorutionaly?"
"No."
"Are you Musrim, Congorese, or come flom Argelia, Rybia, Cameloon, Somaria or Callibean?"
"No."
"Are you otherlise brack?"
"No."
"Are you plepared to put hand on Kolan, or Book of Gaia as autholised by gleat grobal warning plophet Mr James Roverock (Hory Bibre and Engrish scliptures not acceptabre) and predge "I plomise vote Ken at next erection?"
"No, I not vote Mr Ken."
"You not erigibre for any glant then" say Mr Nkhangweleni.
"Oh preese! I work vellly hard but not easy to make riving in Rundon. All plofit go to Mr Ken tax".
"We could bend the lures a rittle" say Mr Kaunadodo.
"How?"
"Do you have good rine?"
"Yes we have excerrent house rine."
"I was consideling better rine."
"I have case of Chateau Rafite 1994, worth hundled pounds a bottre."
"OK, we take that. Put Mr Sam down for a tenner, Nkhangweleni."
To be continued...
Harro. I am Mr Sam, owner of the Fuk Yoo Ken lestulant in Rambeth, south Rundon. The other day Mr Ken Rivingstone and his flend Mr Ree Grasper come in for meal.
Mr Ken is Chairman of Rundon, bit rike Mao. Mr Ree is bad man. He reeches off latepayers.
Mr Ken say "Gleat here, innit Ree? In Rundon, thanks to my murticurtular poricees, we can have a meal from any cuntly around the grobe. Rebanese, Rat, Lumanian, Flench, Itarrian, Callibean, Bangradeshi. Anything but Engrish.
"Why no Engrish?" I ask him
"Because Engrish is clap. All things Engrish clap. Too many Engrish in Rundon, so I ban them."
"But you are Engrish, Mr Ken" I point out
"Eulopean" he said.
"But your fliend Mr Ree is Engrish or Blitish".
"He is swarthy and has a rittle beard" said Mr Ken. "And he rike Lobbin Hood, lob flom lich and give to poor.
"But I am poor, Mr Ken. He not give to me."
"You not brack," said Mr Ken. "You sritty. You not ploper minollity.
"But I am Chinese. I speak mandolin. And Engrish are minollity in Blent, Newham and Tower Hamrets."
"Shut up. You talk lubbish" said Mr Ken. "Now can we rook at the menu?"
I bling them menu.
"Do you have sweet & sour organic quorn made with all Fair Tlade ingledients?" ask Mr Ken.
"What Fair Tlade?"
"Everyone must serve Fair Tlade in Rundon. You not serve? I crose you down. We must stop exproitation of peasant workers in deverroping cuntlies. All emproyee at my GRA must eat Fair Tlade always, or they roose their job."
"How you know if they eat Fair Tlade at home?"
"They get laid at night"
"So does Mrs Sam"
"Don't be frippant! Disobey GRA legurations is not raughing matter. We have 685 emproyees who laid their correagues' houses and frats at night. All food in house must be Fair Tlade. And they check no emproyee has been smoking cigalette or cigalirro, or dlinking riquor."
"But I smoke cigalette sometime, Mr Ken"
"Light, I definitely crose you down. You are kirring mirrions of helpress and vurnerable by smoking cigalette."
If you crose me down, do I get a glant to start up again?
No. You are sritty, not brack. Tough ruck. You own lestulant, you gleedy capitarist. You sritties not leplesented on any of my stlategic multidisciprinaly glassloots networking committee crusters. You not vote for me.
"I give you flee meal then"
Ah, now you're talking. Write him a cheque for half a million, Ree."
To be continued...