"World Restaurant"
{Hint:  Read this one aloud...}

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 Caribbean.  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.