“Open letter
Dear Englanders, we, the Redaktion of Germanys oldest Newspaper, would like to know what you thought have, when you showed the stinking finger to the European Union, Brussels und our beloved Chancellor Merkel. Have you still all candles on the christmas-tree? Onley that we understand us right: From us out you can now make your shit alone, but do not come on in a pair of years and cry for help, when you do not get your things baked. We are ready with you. You can eat your wild-pig with peppermint-sauce, drive on the wrong street-side and drink thin beer from early till late, is us all sausage. We say you in front: It comes the day when you wake up in the morning and shout: “Holy straw-sack, what have we done?” Then you will realize that the good old Churchill would turn himself around in his grave because of all the cream-cheese that your Cameron and his fat enemy with the crazy hairstyle have arranged. At least the Scots are not turned trough. After they have shaken you off, we will lock them in our arms again. That is friendship, that is Europe. If you want to remember how that onfeels, drive north. Maybe they let you in.”
Das erinnert mich stark an die Postkarte, die wir bei einer Studienreise mal unserem Englischdozenten gesendet haben:
Dear Mr. M...,
we want you for the good english thank, that we from you learned have, and that us helped has, us with the island monkeys to underhold.
Hicautionfull
The travellers
