You may have read in the news that the Norwegians recently attempted to trap me by paying the Icelanders to burn parts of their country in order to spread a cloud of airborne debris across Europe, thus closing all the airports. It took me a while to get to the bottom of it, but eventually I worked out that the main aim was to keep me in Norway and prevent me from travelling back to Britain. The love they have for me is deep, true and lingering, but it is sometimes expressed in typically obsessive Scandinavian style.
My brilliant assistant Garry managed to foil this cunning plot by hiring a crack team of taxi drivers to drive me to Belgium. To keep us entertained, we took with us a a jazz quartet, and together we travelled in a vintage 1961 Bedford Coach which included a sauna and sushi bar. From Brussels I was able to catch a train through the Eurotunnel, and was thus returned to the welcoming bosom of my servants. I thanked them for their efforts with my traditional gifts of brown cheese and rotting fish.
So the Norwegians relented, but before they allowed me to leave Norway, they demanded that I make an appearance on the TV programme Skavlan. At least, I think Skavlan is the name of the programme, it could equally be the name of the channel, a day of the week or yet another Elk-based dish.
The bit with me in it starts at about 37 minutes and is conducted in English. For those of you who are in the 99.99% of people who don’t understand the Norwegian language and who might panic when they try to read the subtitles, no those are not Ikea instructions. Ikea is a Swedish company.
Update: several kind people have pointed out that the subtitles are Swedish, and that they are in fact a guide to furniture assembly.