Wm, in Europe now for eight months, tires of Italy:
"I'm sick of the soup kitchen and urinal air of the streets on warm days [written in February]; and sick of the unshaven relaxed population. It pays to live with a robust race, and you've chosen your play well in England. It really me donne sur les nerfs to see all these men without energy enough to put their arms into sleeves. All the human fungeses!"
me donne sur les nerfs = gets on my nerves. The use of unnecessary French phrases was one of the things that most annoyed Wm in H'ry's work.