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LUIGI

We have received complaints that in the itinerant performances which take around various halls and other institutions you are making references which are offensive both to Aboriginals and to migrants. The allegations may, of course, be incorrect but you will readily appreciate that we have to invite your opinion on this matter. Are you able to assure us that there a no racially discriminatory jokes or allusions in your performances? Particular reference is made to a performance conducted recently at Prahran College of Advanced Education.
Good Neighbor Council of Victoria

LUIGI

 

YOB  Ay. Ay you. Yer machine’s busted,
LUIGI Sorry?
YOB Yer machine.. it’s busted.
LUIGI Machine.. ?
YOB Yeah, mister, yer machine don’t work, it’s empty.
LUIGI Oh, no, is not empty..
YOB Look mate, yer machine is empty an’ I want me eighty cents back.
LUIGI Where your eighty cents?
YOB In the machine.. jeeses..
LUIGI Where you put it?
YOB In the bloody bole, where else would I put it?
LUIGI You pusha da buttons?
YOB No, mate, I put me eighty cents in an’ waited fer a miracle.
LUIGI Miracle? Whassis miracle., ?
YOB Look, of course I pushed the bloody buttons, I pushed all the bloody buttons aai’ nothin’ happened.
LUIGI You try again.
YOB Givus another eighty cents au’ I’ll try again.
LTJIGI You try again.
YOB Look, I put me eighty cents in, didn’t I?
LUIGI I dunno…
YOB Well, I did, I put me eighty cents in an’ I pushed the button, right? I pushed the button an’ nothin’ happened, so I pushed another button, an’ nothin’ happened, an’ I kept on pushin’ the bloody buttons an’ nothin’ happened, an’ then I tried to get me eighty cents back an’ nothin’ happened, so yer machine’s busted.
LUIGI You want a coffee?
YOB No, I don’t want a coffee, I want me eighty cents.
LUIGI You put eighty cents inna machine.. ?

YOB Yes, I putta da eighty centsa inns da machina, comprehendi, an’ I pusha da buttonsa n’ fuck-all comes out, Luigi.
LUIGI Where your eighty cents?
YOB Jeeses, Luigi, don’t you speaka da Inglisba?
LUIGI I speaka da good Inglish,
lOB Then why don’t ya listen, Luigi?
LUIGI Donchoo call me Luigi, mista, donchoo calla me..
lOB I’ll fuckin’ call you anything I like, cunt. Now, just you get that eighty cents outta that fuckin’ machine an’ I’ll forgive ya for bein’ rude to me,.
LUIGI I calls the police, you go now.
YOB I’m not goin’ anywhere, spaghetti, an’ you’re not callin’ the pigs till I get me money.
LUIGI You go now, please, you go now, mista, I no want the trouble..

YOB You’re gonna get the trouble, quick smart, Luigi, unless you get yer greasy little fingers in that till an’ gimme me money: Now, fuckin’ get movin’ an’ get that money.
LUIGI Look, mista..
lOB Now, you look, you fuckin’ greasy, sweaty little wop! Don’t you gimme no more bull no more, right?
LUIGI What this bull, mista?
YOB Short for bullshit, Luigi, short for bullshit. Now I’ll give you a counta three to get me that money. One..
LUIGI Look mista, I no..
TON Two..
LUIGI Unnerstan’ mista, I no unnerstan’..
lOB Three

HE PUNCHES LUIGI IN THE STOMACH: LUIGI DOUBLES UP, DROPS TO THE GROUND, LIES PRONE, KICKED VIOLENTLY IN THE GROIN.

I fuckin’ warned you, Luigi, I fucking warned you.. Now, you gonna gimme me eighty cents?
LUIGI Yes, yes, mista, I give you the money, mista… please..
YOB Please nothin’, Luigi, now you just get over to that till, cunt, before anybody comes in, get me that money..
LUIGI Yes, yes, mista.. EXITS 

You fuckin’ dagos come in here into our country an’ come on strong with our fuckin’ sheilas an’ set up yer greasy, fuckin’ fish an’ chip shops while there’s decent Aussie blokes like me an’ me mates out of a job while you stinkin’ wops get fat on the profits from yer stinkin’, greasy, fuckin’ pizza parlours! 

Well, you slimy cunts better get smart, an’ realize there’s a lotta other good Oztrazan blokes out there, just waitin’ to get a chance to put the boot into yon cunts, to cut yer balls off, Luigi, cut yer balls off an’ stuff ‘em down yer fuokin’ throat! 

That’ll stop you deadshit I-ties comin’ in here an’ fuckin’ our women, an’ teachin’ ‘em that It-ies is equal to Aussies, an’ how to eat spaghetti, an’ that wops is better lovers’n me ‘n me mates, ‘cos we’re gonna get you smooth bastards, we’re gonna get youse an’ we’re gonna teach youse that this is our country, see, this is our country, an’ all you wops can fuckin’ get back to where youse all come from, get back to spaghetti land an’ leave us good, real Aussies alone.

This is a beautiful country… an’ we don’t want no stinkin’, filthy, dirty, greasy, slimy migrants in here, fillin’ up the place an’ bringin’ yer mommas an’ yer pappas and yer screamin’, filthy, fuckin’ bambini in here to fuck it all up!

So you tell ‘em that, when youse get back borne to yer stinkin’ slum, you tell ‘em that you met a real Aussie, an’ he said to fuck off outta here.

Get back to where ya come from, leave this country to the people that should be here, leave this country to the Aussies. We fought for it, I was in Vietnam, I stopped them fuckin’ slit eyed chinks from commin’ in an’ takin’ over, I stopped ‘em, me an’ me mates, an’ then I come home an’ whaddo I see? The whole place filled up with fuckin’ dagos an’ spaghetti shops an’ nothin’ left of the real Australia, nothin’ left!

You bastards come in here an’ fuck our woman an’ get fat, while I’m out there with a rifle in me hand killin’ chinks so that this can be a free country for Australian! This is a free country, wop, this is a free country an’ I’m not havin’ you greasy fuckwits in ‘ere.

I was out killin’ – I was out there in the jungle with a rifle in me hand, killin’ for you cunts, an’ whatta you care? You don’t give a fuck, Luigi, you don’t give a fuck, do ya? Stinkin’ rotten, filthy, sweaty, dago bastards, you don’t give a fuck about Australia, an’ me an’ me mates, an’ our national heritage, you don’t give a fuck!

We had a good life here, we had a bloody good life ‘till you cunts come in, it was a good life, it was Oztra-a-ayan… ya could pick a bird up on the beach without no trouble, ya could go out fer a meal without havin’ to go to fuckin’ spaghetti shops an’ pizza parlours, ya could go to any film ya liked an’ not havta read the words at the bottom, ya could watch the tele without havin’ ta watch some dago singin’ Arre-e-everderki-fuckin’-Roma, ya could go out an’ have a cuppa coffee without the fuckin’ waiter tryin’ to race off yer fuckin’ bird when yer not lookin’, ya could walk round Fitzroy without trippin’ over yer black fuckin’ mamma mia’s sittin’ out all over the fuckin’ street..

I mean, ya walk down Smith Street now, an’ yer lucky if ya pass one dinkurn Aussie in the street, it’s all fuckin’ dagos, ‘n kikes, ‘n Turkish cunts, ‘n fuckin’ boongs!

I won’t stop, ya know, one day I’m gonna go out an’ get me gun an’ come up here an’ fuckin’ shoot all of youse wogs. I will, an’ if I don’t there’ll always be another one of me, anq fair dinkim Aussie’ll come back an’ get you cunts. There’ll always be another one of me, y’know, there’ll always be another one of me…

Bastards.

 
BLACKOUT

 

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