oh you have to be kidding me..
but i give the thumbs up
to the English authorities,
i wasn't deported,
i was given a first class ticket
on British Airways
two weeks later after my parents
were handcuffed
and taken to the local police
station...
left with my visiting grandfather
punching the well...
what did i eat on the plane?
shrimps...
two weeks notice to leave...
nice of them...
  so i know what illegal immigration
looks like...
sorry... not Commonwealth Joe
in these parts...
but i have to compliment
the Home Office,
for figuring out that...
i was circa 12!
            two weeks? **** me...
that's very nice of them...
at least i could leave most of my
belongings with the Jewish lady
my mother was working for
as a carer...
that dementia ate her away in
the most opportune sense of
killer proteins... another bother...
what i was going to say...
ever seen the British film
habit?
no... oh you should...
and to think i frequented
a brothel, ran by Turks,
using Bulgarian prostitutes...
blows-jobs like
circumcision celebrations...
and that one ***** that
stole my bank card...
and then the protector
pseudo-primp with a batch of
them wrapped in a rubber string...
so she steals, gets away with it...
while i have to lie about
losing it while taking a ****
in the park?!
to boot... i met these two
rugby enthusiasts in a Liverpool St.
pub...
   paid for their pints
to get a Saracens beanie from them...
i also lost that in the brothel...
   to the Turks:
can your ******* just stop stealing
my ****?!
oh wait... this is the criminal
underworld?
it is illegal to run a brothel in England....
although it's legal to *******
yourself?
  oh... right...
oops?!
        well, it's not like i leave
the brothel with an excess of circumcision...
and... as a... "punter"...
i walk in drunk...
   which... somehow is a problem
in the film habit...
    mind you, the ******* affair
of the ****-tease that is the strip,
akin to spectacle in Athens...
******* to boot if you think these
girls want to strip and pop balloons...
no chance in hell...
i was new, i didn't read into the code...
so this one pretty Balkan Slav
throws a green colored chip
before my glass of beer,
and starts talking...
   i'm broke...
  i just managed to chat with these
random strangers in the center
of Athens... i wasn't exactly expecting
to head into a strip-club...
i end up imitating
the spreading of butter on a slice
of toast with two, more aged strippers,
right in the middle of the *****...
and this one gives me...
Mona Lisa's eyes
with a fury that would be the infatuation
worthy of a Helen...
a 1000 ships?
    5 - 2... what?
the odds of the Greeks beating the Trojans.
oh second time round i received
the passport...
      and... whatever citizenry meant
by then... didn't sing an anthem...
never sand an anthem to begin with...
you sing an anthem?
   for all their I.Q. bound to the legs...
such precious little boys
in a football team...
      Vaughan Williams: tears? yes...
but a national anthem?
              forget it.
i swear there was some other point...
****...
   what was it?
oh!
   right!
   you have to be kidding me!
you have to seriously be kidding me right now!
so, you're telling me,
i just came out from under the iron curtain /
  eisenvorhang...
and now... i'm being shoved under
a silicon curtain / siliziumvorhang?!
you have to be ******* me...
shove me under the tartar of
a ******* kilt, and let answer the tricky
trivia question as to, whether:
Scots wear underwear while donning the kilt!
****'s sake!
   *******, the whole lot of it!

p.s. there's this ****** slang expression,
when you put your wrist
into the the other arm's grove
of the other side of the elbow,
and then rise the receiving arm up
in a proclamation,
almost like a *******,
with the added expression -
   and here is where the penguin's beak
bends...

****** transliteration, i agree,
some things are hardly stolen,
they're lost...
         Poland has been off the map for long
enough to take to the mongrel antics
of serving the practice of
darlehenwörter: Polacks are prone
to loan words...

ugh... whenever i hear the words
weekend and grill...
  i scare my own shadow away...

but like i already made an emphasis of...
you're kidding me?
from under the iron curtain,
to under the silicone curtain?!
      i thought i was escaping this *******?!
but, like i also said...
shove me under the tartan kilt...
let me check if the Picts really do
the whole pompous-affair, commando.