I mean, how hard can it be? Come on good people of Germany. I need you to say “Ja!” to a residency application…
To encourage you to bring this fine mission to a rapid and happy conclusion, you should remember that we Bülow’s have a Wiki page that shows that
the family traces its main line back to one knight Godofridus de Bulowe, mentioned in a 1229 deed
That’s the year 1229 by the way; no Johnny (or Johannes, see what I did there?) Come Lately us. And yes, my middle name is John.
I’m a descendant of an August Gottfried Mistel*, bootmaker, born 1828, of Ganz, Prussia and whilst we didn’t actually start calling ourselves Bülow until one of his children married into the name, hey, that’s a long time ago. No need to start nit-picking fault now. That my forbears made the easy mistake of coming over to England a long time ago, right back at the end of the 19th C. is a simple screw-up, nothing you’re going to hold against us, right?
* [probably a variant of Mästle, a friendly nickname for a well-fed person, derived from Middle High German mast ‘well-fed person’, also ‘fattening (animals)’.]
And boot-maker; that’s a fine, fine trade. There’s always going to be a need for boot-makers, don’t you think. What’s that you’re asking? “Can I actually make a pair of boots. From scratch?”. Well, no, not, exactly, no. But how hard can it be…
There’s our main Berlin street, right there, see?
…there’s even a whole (magnificent) fucking U-Bahn station named after me…
I mean come on people, what more do we need, eh, answer me that? Seriously, won’t you help us leave this hell-hole of a country & let us come back to my ancestral homeland?