Clear your political correctness cache and enable comedy cookies on your brain browser in preparation for this in-your-face/on-your-screen blog post.

As an accomplished writer, musician and serial date rapist, I’m something of a triple threat (according to the NSW Police). Okay. Basically, I wrote a bunch of musicals threatening to date rape celebrities (currently showing Off-Broadway (Broadway, Sydney I mean. On the footpath near the new Max Brenner)). But my talents don’t just stop at bullying Israeli chocolatiers with my overactive libido; they also extend to international languages.

I coined this: Freudfreudenfreude (to take delight in another’s delight of Freud).

Example #2: Hitler war nicht vegetarier! Ich habe ihm einmal Rückenlehne gegessen gesehen! (Hitler wasn’t a vegetarian! I once saw him eating a fucking squab for fuck’s sake! (emphasis and swearing: mine)).

Another example: החלקתי משהו קטן ב שוקו חם שלך (I slipped a little something in your hot chocolate, Mr. Brenner (emphasis and rohypnol: mine – according to the NSW police)).

Also, I really, really like brackets and Facebook liking things in real life by tapping them with an index finger and saying “Like”.

So I think the above qualifies me to comment on all things Internationalismusfähigkeiten. Oh, and I forgot I also have a degree in International Studies (which is the “look, some of my best friends are gay…” of racism). In the interest of transparency: the only subject I had to do to qualify for the degree was Tutting Convincingly at a Copy of Francis Fukuyama’s The End of History, which is lying on a desk near my office. Regards, Robyn Knight (6cp). Also though: at UTS (which is the “look, some of my best campuses are vertical campuses…” of racism) so…

…GOD! ITALIANS.

All of the above was a painfully drawn out and unnecessary segue to talk about this Italian poster that I found. GOD!!

Italians! The people that gave us the Roman Empire, pizza and hedging your bets during war (in hindsight I should have started this blog post here – pls scroll down so it looks like it does as I’m too lazy to go back and delete).

I in-real-life-Facebook-like the Italian language but can’t speak a lick of it! Even my offensive caricature of an Italian mamma (pause for applause) has hints in the accent of my offensive parody of an Indian Swami (forcing me to create a fairly convoluted back-story set in British India for what is, quite frankly, a fairly two-dimensional character to begin with – her only motivation is that she has pasta and wants you to eat it).

Fortunately, one of my best friends, Giuseppe (which is the “look, one of my best friends, Giuseppe…” of made-up anecdotes) translated the poster entitled “Hey Men! Even Women Can Be on Trains Now” (in Italy the advertising maxim is “sexism sells” due to a Google Translate error).


1. No pushing the train. It has a motor to help it move.


2. Do not pee out of the train at stations.


3. Do not exit the train using a hoverboard. Explanation: Italians are lazy and hate updating things almost as much as I just realised I hate updating this blog (hey-yo!) so all their warning posters contain futuristic warnings.


4. Only pole vault the train if you think you can make it


5. No divining for water on the train. Readings will be inaccurate as the train will be moving.


6. For the convenience of other passengers do not fill the train with water and ride a gondola in it


7. You really are an asshole, you know that.


8. Don’t drink in bed. It’s depressing.

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