Hello again, happy new year and welcome to the January edition of The Autolycan.
Another sequel! This time a happy, or perhaps not so happy, re-appearance for Leif and Mrs Sigurdsson, whom we last met in April 2014. I do hope you enjoy it, and if so please feel free to pass the link to others.
Well, it saves me having to think up something brand new, invent new characters, all that tricky stuff.........
A
MISPLACED SELF BE-LEIF
Think
again about the pillaging Viking warriors - it wasn't just the men
who raided Britain. Study of DNA shows significant numbers of Norse
women were in the longboats as well.
The
Independent
Well,
the American trip has certainly aroused some interest, and a number
of friends have asked what was the absolute highlight. The Grand
Canyon? New Orleans? Washington DC? And yes, it was all of these
and a lot more besides, but for sheer schadenfreude nothing could
match coming down in a hotel lift – or possibly elevator – early
one morning in Nashville, accompanied by a couple of sharp suits and
a dress and jacket, each wearing a name badge and a stricken look.
They came from various parts of the South, and each reported to a
doubtless more expensive suit/dress who had decided that they should
go to a Conference. These reluctant Conferees were on their way to
breakfast. 7.15 in the morning, and they weren't even to be allowed
their coffee and blueberry muffin in peace. A stolen glance at the
programme clutched by the dress and jacket – who looked a shoe-in
for Most Morose Delegate – revealed that she must shortly divide
her attention between the muffin and someone banging on about
Leadership in a Target
Driven Sales Environment. Similar
attractions awaited her throughout what was shaping up to be a very
long morning – The
1-2-3 of Overcoming Apathy; Determination, Drive and Success!;
Passion + Persistence + Partnership = Performance! Outside
the hotel a tight knit gaggle of even unhappier people was looking at
watches and wondering if there was time for another fag before going
in. Predictably, there wasn't.
Schadenfreude. The enjoyment of other people's misfortunes. Not the
most noble of sentiments, it's true, but which of us who doesn't have
to Confer any more could resist a smile?
Originally an Old High German word – and it perhaps says something
about Old High Germans that they were the first to feel the need for
a special word to define the condition – it was imported into
Britain and subsequently America by waves of invaders possibly going
back as far as the Vikings. But how?
Now, I know your Viking history is probably a bit sketchy, so let me
remind you that a few months ago we left one Mrs Sigurdsson – Erik
the Red's cultural attaché – journeying towards these shores.
Remember her? She was accompanied by Leif – Erik's embarrassing
son who you may recall had recently, and awkwardly for a Viking,
renounced all forms of violence and liked nothing better than to
immerse himself in the slim volume of tortured verse he carried with
him at all times. Erik thought that by sending these two on a fool's
errand he would be rid of them once and for all. Erik, as we shall
see, wasn't quite right.
The
East coast of eleventh century England where Leif and Mrs Sigurdsson
set up base was a cold, inhospitable place where daily life was hard
and, well, uncultured. But Leif had been schooled by his father to
see challenges and opportunities where others saw only problems and
they set about their task with idealistic enthusiasm. Undaunted by
the failure of either the Norse
Saga Reading Circle
or the Have Fun
with Early Runic Inscriptions!
group to attract much interest – well, OK, any interest – Leif
and Mrs Sigurddson went on to introduce a type of Norwegian folk
dancing which many modern scholars see as the antecedent of the
Morris Dance. This went down rather better with the locals, relying
as it did on the liberal use of sticks, staves and wooden clogs, but
eventually the mayhem became such that Mrs Sigurdsson had to plead
with the folk dancers to lay down their arms. Shorn of their
weaponry the warring dance teams had to find an alternative outlet
for their energy, and invented the loose maul which rapidly evolved
to feature gouging, biting and stamping, although it wasn't until the
invention of the ball some time later that the game of Rugby League
truly started to take off.
Perhaps
predictably, the six month course 26
Exciting Ways with Reconstituted Dried Fish! failed
to make much impact – neither did Dog
Sledging the North
Trøndelag Way
for Beginners! - but
things started to look up when Mrs Sigurdsson hit on the idea of
inviting their fellow countrymen to come over from Norway to explore
British culture and traditions. The first two or three parties were
all male, and although she had tried to ensure that each trip had a
particular focus so that there was no descent into riot and pillage,
it was perhaps naïve of her to suggest that they would provide the
perfect context for a stag weekend. Nobody seemed to mind the
ensuing drunken bedlam too much though, least of all the folk dancers
who - having miraculously found their weapons again - challenged
their Viking guests to an interactive handkerchief dance,
overwhelming them by eight teeth, six broken limbs and a mild case of
post traumatic stress disorder to a simple sprained ankle.
Nobody minded, that is, apart from Leif and Mrs Sigurdsson who were
horrified and set up a Stag Weekend Survivors' Group to counsel and
support victims, although, as it turned out, they were the only two
who signed up to join the group. They had endless difficulty filling
all the positions on the Committee, not least because Mrs Sigurdsson
– who was a bit of a stickler for these things - was apt to veto
any decision they reached on the grounds that the group reaching it
was not quorate. There were times when even Leif began to hunger
after his father's more direct methods.
They were galvanised into action though – highly unconstitutional
action, fretted Mrs Sigurdsson – when the folk dancers proposed
issuing invitations to various Scandinavian groups to take part in a
knockout maypole dancing tournament - 'if you think you're hard
enough' as their draft invitation cheerfully added. The word
'knockout' was double underlined. They needed an alternative
attraction for the dancers and it suddenly dawned on them what it
might be when a member of Leif's struggling Feminist Whale Flensing
Collective mentioned in passing that what they could really do with
was a few more women. Leif and Mrs Sigurdsson fell on the idea
voraciously. Of course! Get the Norse men to bring their Norse
ladies! Why hadn't they thought of that before?
Their imaginations raced. Visits to pretty fishing villages nestling
around picturesque harbours and bays, sumptuous exhibitions of
English needlework through the ages, practical music making on pipe
and tabor, romantic weekends for two at upmarket country retreats,
and yes, dancing events – dancing events for both sexes, even
dances where the partners hold each other close!
This was the future! England as a destination for mature, genteel –
OK, they finally admitted, middle class – couples interested in the
arts and crafts, in travel and tourism and curious about English
culture and traditions.
They
awaited the arrival of the first mixed sex group with a barely
suppressed fervour. This would succeed beyond their dreams – they
saw themselves reporting in triumph to Erik - fêted
as the pioneers who conquered this land, not in the old way but by
fostering in both peoples an unquenchable thirst for education, for
culture, for understanding, and consequently – they dared hope –
for lasting peace and progress.
They
set up a reception tent with a banner saying welcome in English and
Norwegian. Mrs Sigurdsson had organised canapés,
cakes and great pots of Yorkshire tea, together with a glass or two
of elderflower wine for everybody. There were to be speeches and a
display of garland making by local children organised by the folk
dancing team who had thrown themselves into the preparations with a
wholly unexpected vigour.
As
the first longboat hove into view, Leif and Mrs Sigurdsson strained
their eyes to catch a glimpse of the tall sails surmounting the
rhythmic beat of the oars. It was Leif who first noticed that the
beat of the oars was rather less than rhythmic, but they put that
down to fatigue after the long journey. After all, they reasoned,
the women wouldn't be rowing so the men would have to work double
shifts. The 'Kløb
18-30' motif on the mainsail was a bit of a puzzle to them, and what
they took to be the oarsmen's work song, when they heard it, was less
disciplined, less tuneful and more raucous than they remembered.
'Things have moved on since we left', they told themselves, 'this
will be a learning experience for us as well!'
The first boat demolished the jetty that had stood there for
generations, took out a large pile of lobster pots and came to rest
with its prow atop the little platform set up for local dignitaries.
They scattered as crew and passengers tumbled out.
They
were drinking, noted Mrs Sigurdsson. Perhaps they had needed to
fortify themselves against the rigours of the journey. Fortify
themselves rather liberally, she thought. She was cheered though to
see the Norwegian flag much in evidence, and stood respectfully to
attention as an unfamiliar version of the National Anthem was sung.
But there were women, and plenty of them! Indeed, the presence of
women was inescapable given the way fashions had clearly changed
since she left home. Skirts were very much shorter than before, tops
were a good deal tighter and, well, lower cut. Midriffs were
frequently completely bare, despite the temperature.
She shivered.
Ignoring the welcoming committee, the visitors made for the reception
tent and the elderflower wine, of which there was plenty since Mrs
Sigurdsson had been expecting several boatloads. Much the wildest
party she had ever witnessed was soon in full swing. There were
times she had to avert her eyes, but also times – she had to admit
– when she was straining to get a closer look. Meanwhile, the folk
dancers bided their time, delaying their challenge until they judged
the situation to be at its most inflammatory.......
Nobody noticed the arrival of the second longboat. This made
landfall in a far more professional manner and a distinguished and
authoritative figure was first to disembark.
When Erik had despatched Leif and Mrs Sigurdsson he thought he had
seen the last of them, but as time went by curiosity got the better
of him. Had he perhaps been a bit hard on them? What were they
doing? Most importantly, had they managed to turn England into
somewhere worth conquering? He had to know, and when parties of men
and women began sailing for England he decided to follow. The first
signs were most encouraging. The pillaging was better than he'd ever
seen, the full scale debauchery was really very promising and the
pitched battle surrounding the maypole gladdened his heart. As he
surveyed the scene approvingly an abject, aghast Leif and a craven,
panic-stricken Mrs Sigurdsson knelt before him.
Their grand vision was in ruins. They were mortified, humiliated.
They had failed utterly and they knew it. Erik somehow maintained a
straight face as he eyed them coldly.
'I have recently received a deputation from Old High Germany' he
declared ' and from them I learnt a magnificent new word which
perfectly describes how I feel about you two.'
They recoiled.
'Sir?'
'Shall I tell you what it is?'
'Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.'
Erik looked down at them and left them to squirm in silence for fully
two minutes while chaos and pandemonium raged all round. Then,
slowly, a broad smile spread across his features. He savoured the
word as he spoke it.
ANAGRAM
CORNER
RUSSELL BRAND – REVOLUTIONARY!
RIBALD, UNLOVELY RANTER - O RUSS!
