A German POW camp. The Commandant, Angela Merkel, is seated behind her desk. The prisoner, Silvio Berlusconi, is standing before her.
BERLUSCONI: Good morning, Herr Commandant!
MERKEL (slapping her riding crop on the desk): Silence! Speak only when spoken to!
BERLUSCONI: Mi scusi, Herr Commandant.
MERKEL: I've been reviewing your file, macaroni...
BERLUSCONI: Please, Herr Commandant, Silvio...
MERKEL: Silence! It says here you are Prime Minister of Italy, that Italy is now deeply in debt, like all the other undisciplined southern European countries....
BERLUSCONI: Yes, Herr Commandant, you know how it is. The 2008 financial crisis hit all of us very hard...
MERKEL: Germany wasn't hit hard, Germany's superior economy is thriving! And now you want us to save your pathetic Italian meatballs.
BERLUSCONI: Yes, Herr Commandant, it's a testament to your economic vision and strong leadership. We can learn a lot from your bold example.
MERKEL: Hmph. I see you would also like to borrow money from Germany to prop up your pathetic economy.
BERLUSCONI: Yes, Herr Commandant, if you could see your way to loaning us a few hundred billion euros at low interest, that should do the trick...
MERKEL: It also says you recently insulted me in the press.
BERLUSCONI: I, madam? I would never do such a thing to such a grand lady...
MERKEL (reading from a newspaper): So you didn't call me, and I quote, an "unf***able lard-arse?"
BERLUSCONI: A base slander by my political enemies! This is what happens when the government doesn't control the media.
MERKEL: So you don't think I'm an "unf***able lard-arse?"
BERLUSCONI: Certainly not! You are a very f***able lard-arse. I mean, a highly desirable woman!
MERKEL: More desirable than your little Ruby Heartstealer?
BERLUSCONI: Who? I don't know what you are referring to...
MERKEL (slapping the desk again with her riding crop): Don't play games with me, macaroni! I mean that little underage prostitute you've been bringing to your bunga bunga parties.
BERLUSCONI: Yes, Herr Commandant, I suddenly recollect myself. Yes, you are more desirable than Ruby Heartstealer by far! She is a mere slip of a girl! You are a real woman!
MERKEL: Desirable enough to bunga bunga with me?
BERLUSCONI: I'm sorry, Herr Commandant, I don't understand.
Merkel gets up, sits on the desk in front of Berlusconi, and spreads her legs.
MERKEL: You understand, macaroni. Am I desirable enough to bunga bunga with?
BERLUSCONI (starting to sweat): Yes, of course in theory you are desirable enough to bunga bunga with...
Merkel rubs her riding crop over her crotch. She isn't wearing any panties. Berlusconi's eyes are bugging out of his head.
MERKEL: Not theory, macaroni. Physical reality. Very physical.
BERLUSCONI: Herr Commandant, I respect you too much as a woman and a world leader to subject you to that...
Merkel slaps Berlusconi's face with her riding crop.
BERLUSCONI: Owww, you hurt me, you crazy bitch! I mean, you passionate temptress. The plastic surgery just finished healing from that attack on me last year.
MERKEL: Don't give me that shit! Where was your respect for women when you were appointing all those topless showgirls to your cabinet? You either bunga bunga me right here and now, or no loan to Italy, and your government collapses.
BERLUSCONI: Please, Herr Commandant, I am an old man, and though it shames me to the depths of my soul, I can no longer perform in that fashion. I am too weak!
MERKEL: What? The legendary Cavaliere can no longer mount and ride? I have anticipated that, and like a wise leader, have prepared a counter measure. Here, this will put some starch in your noodle.
Merkel presents Berlusconi with a steaming bowl of pasta.
BERLUSCONI: What is this?
MERKEL: Spaghetti puttanesca.
Berlusconi takes a taste.
BERLUSCONI: Not bad. A little salty. Too much anchovy?
MERKEL: It's laced with enough Viagra to give the entire Vatican an erection.
Berlusconi spits it out.
MERKEL: Come, come, even the great Cavaliere needs a little help getting into the saddle every now and then.
Berlusconi reluctantly eats the rest of the bowl of pasta.
BERLUSCONI: I feel the strength returning to my veins! I feel like Rocky Balboa, the Italian Stallion! I feel like Mussolini!
MERKEL: Now you either bunga bunga or you go back to being a cruise ship singer.
Berlusconi shrugs and unzips his pants. Four hours later...
BERLUSCONI: Did I please you, Herr Commandant? Did I satisfy you?
MERKEL: It was...alright.
BERLUSCONI: Just alright? I'll have you know I've satisfied entire planeloads of hookers!
MERKEL: Relax, macaroni. You will get your money. But first there is another little game I would like to play.
BERLUSCONI: Another little game? Please, Herr Commandant, I think I need medical attention...
MERKEL: Don't worry, macaroni, you don't have to do all the work in this one.
BERLUSCONI: Mamma mia, what is that?
Merkel straps on an enormous dildo.
MERKEL: Bend over, macaroni! Time for a real bunga bunga party!