HOW THEY BABYLON!" Waitress: Hawaii, Mister? You Must Be Hungary.

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Waitress: Hawaii, Mister? You must be Hungary.

Gent: Yes, Siam. And I can't Rumania long, either. Venice lunch ready?

Waitress: I'll Russia table. What are you Ghana Havre? Aix?

Gent: You want Tibet? I prefer Turkey. Can Jamaica cook step on the
Gaza bit?

Waitress: Odessa laugh! Alaska, but listen for her Wales.

Gent: I'm not Balkan. Just put a Cuba sugar in my Java.

Waitress: Don't you be Sicily, big boy. Sweden it yourself. I'm only
here to Serbia.

Gent: Denmark my check and call the Bosphorus, Egypt me. There's an
Eire. I hope he'll Kenya. I don't Bolivia know who I am!

Waitress: Canada noise! I don't Caribean. You sure Ararat!

Gent: Samoa your wisecracks? What's got India? D'you think this
arguing Alps business? Why be so Chile? Be Nice!

Waitress: Don't Kiev me that Boulogne! Alemain do! Spain in the
neck. Pay your Czech and don't Kuwait. Ayssinia!

Gent (to himself): I'll come back with my France and Taiwan on
Zanzibar is open.