Never mind globalisation; there is an even greater threat lurking. Sweden is on course for world domination. It is achieving this through subtle cultural infiltration at thousands of IKEA stores all over the world.
You read it here first: the Viking spirit is far from dead.
On Saturday we went to IKEA. It was midsummer and we were greeted by smiling faces offering us hand-made garlands and scrummy cakes.
“It’s midsummer,” they told us. “Free cakes, free ice-creams, treasure hunts for the children.” We had a lovely time. The children had more fun than they had at Aqualand. We left laden with goods feeling jolly happy.
This might all seem harmless, but I know their cunning plan. Next we’ll be celebrating other strange rituals, like throwing ourselves naked into lakes on April 30th to welcome spring (which if you live in Sweden is still several months away) or putting candles on our heads on December 13th, wearing sheets and singing loudly.
All this free cake may seem like a good idea at the time but you’ll end up like Edmund in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, unable to live without it and craving more endlessly. Which of course means you have to go back to IKEA to buy some (and be brainwashed again). And this is not just happening in France. Take a look at any instructions from IKEA. They come in every language known to man, and some that are unknown.
As a half-Swede I am guilty of supporting the aim of a global Sweden. If you don’t actually have to live there, it is the best possible of cultures. The food is fantastic, the people are thin and pretty, the cars reliable and the pagan rituals hysterical. Where else can you spend June 21st dancing round a may-pole, singing about small frogs without ears (I kid you not) and then falling over?
After our successful brain-washing session at IKEA on Saturday we went for dinner with some Italian/French friends. As we were leaving I pressed a packet of Swedish cakes into my hostess’s hands.
“Try them,” I smiled sweetly. “They’re truly divine.”
It’s only a matter of time before she’s ours, all ours…….
Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2007