Oh, Berlin. What is Berlin? Berlin, as a city, brings nothing but shame to Germany on the international stage.

When comparing Berlin with other European capitals such as London, Madrid and Amsterdam, any decent human’s face must blush in humiliation. Even small countries like Austria, Denmark or Switzerland have Vienna, Copenhagen, and Zurich: presentable cities, complete with high standards of living. Germany gets punished with Berlin, capital of losers. Perhaps only Paris can be in the running against Berlin.

In all the republic, Berlin is home to the largest number of arseholes by far. Deutsche Bahn, Bundestag, and Axel Springer are but a few examples of all the incompetent scum being kept here.

Glorious times have long since passed, the city is face down in the dirt. Berliners are lazy sods to their very core. Traits that would, in any civilised culture, pass for nothing but laziness, rudeness, incompetence, dissocial personality disorder or idiocy, are taken by the Berliner and declared a way of life. That is why the Berliner harbours intense feelings of hatred for anyone who’s better than him in any way. Especially the all-around superior Southern Germany are a thorn in its side. He envies their success, and Munich makes the top on its list of hatred. That city is – and has! – everything that Berlin wants to be and have. Berliners take no interest in the fact that it is Munich that finances their dissolute lifestyle, in fact, they secretly believe that they have earned it. So instead of freeing themselves from their envious and resentful lethargy, instead of rolling up their sleeves and improve their city, they revel in their antisocial freeloading and praise their so-called global city.

Culturally, Berliners are set up rather weakly, great works lie far back in history. Moreover, mispronouncing “g” as “j” is considered a great cultural feat. Advanced students have mastered ending each and every sentence with a “wa?”.

The city’s culinary performance is second-rate. Here, a sausage made from glued-together, meaty odds and ends adorned with ketchup and curry powder is sold as a culinary masterpiece. Hardly any reasonable person would consider a bratwurst with ketchup a recipe, let alone the holy grail of culinary arts. If the dish were to be Germany’s national dish, it’d surely be among the worst globally.

Yet, in their magnanimity, the rest of the republic lets the Berliner keep its delusion, not wanting to amplify its inferiority complex. Economically, Berlin is an utter disaster, even the late GDR stood on more solid ground. The local economy is based around alternative blogs, something-something-media, and overhyped tech startups.

Disregarding its own bankruptcy, the Berliner treats itself to prestigious projects like the city palace and the airport – which, considering its inoperative nature, is likely an art installation.

Long story short: Berlin is Germany’s tiled coffee table.

Berlin is a blemish, the abscess on the arse of the nation. Berlin is the uninvited party guest, who didn’t even bring any booze and wouldn’t even understand they are not welcome if they had its teeth beaten out and thrown down the stairs.

Berlin is the Detroit of Germany and should be sold to Poland for no more than 100 Złoty.