Alas, poor Turkish King, I believe lady luck, after loving you expectantly for several years, shall leave you suddenly. You, a self described Sideshow Bob, shall find Italy become a rake at your every turn. Whether it be in the Mediterranean, where your horrendous bottleneck of fleets chokes itself, or across the Austrian killing fields, where you foolishly should have taken Trieste when it was before you, you shall see Italy stand stalwartly in your way.
So, Turkey, my dear frenemy, I must throw the support of my pasta and woman loving army behind those who will help me drive the cheese-eating surrender monkeys into the ocean and ensure that a poor fool who caught the luckiest break in the game does not ride the luck to victory.
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