The viking warriors threw the quivering blob of pasty jelly down at the feet of their leader.
“Oh, Boss!” wailed Tomas. “Nay, Boss! Take pity, Boss! Have mercy, Boss! I’m just a miserable wretch, Boss! I couldn’t hit the target from three feet with a blunderbuss, Boss! I am but a worthless boil before your red-hot lance, Boss! But don’t take me literally, Boss! I’m not worth it, Boss! Think of your karma, Boss! You don’t want any more of my blood on your hands, do you, Boss?! It was the pies, Boss, I swear! It was the pies!”
“Tomas?” said the tribal chieftain, softly.
“Y-Yes, Boss?” whimpered Tomas.
“Take up your place, Tomas." continued Leif. "We’re going to give them a taste of what we can do…”
“Oh yeah, sure…” replied Tomas, sarcastically. “VERY funny! Oh yes, Boss ! Oh VERY funny, Boss!”
“What is it, Tomas?” said Leif, his patience beginning to crack.
“In case you’d forgotten, Boss…" continued Tomas, "I’VE ONLY GOT ONE FRIGGIN’ ARM, BOSS! AND IT HURTS!
It’s just not fair…”
“Ooooooooer..” came a voice from the crowd. “Someone’s tired…”
Tomas sat with his head down for a moment, sniffling… and as he did so, a sudden breeze came and blew around his neck and shoulders ... and as the spirit thus spoke to him, something changed inside his body. Suddenly, deep inside, in a place that he’d never even known existed, he felt himself go cold, without pity…
He’d had enough…
“NO! I SHAN’T!” he screamed, stamping his foot on the ground. “YOU LEAVE ME ALONE! YOU’RE NOTHING BUT A BULLY! I HATE YOU! YOU’RE HORRIBLE! ALL YOU EVER DO IS BLAME ME FOR EVERYTHING! YOU PUSH EVERYONE AROUND! EVERYONE’S SCARED OF YOU! JUST BECAUSE YOU’RE IN CHARGE, YOU THINK YOU CAN ACT LIKE A COMPLETE AND UTTER TYRANT! YOU THINK THAT JUST BECAUSE YOUR FAMILY HAPPENED TO BE THE ONE THAT KILLED OFF ALL ITS ENEMIES AND THEN SET ABOUT FORCING ALL THE LITTLE PEOPLE TO WORK FOR THEM UNDER HORRENDOUS CONDITIONS OF POVERTY AND SLAVERY, THAT IT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO SAY WHETHER THEY LIVE OR DIE! HA! WELL, I’VE HAD ENOUGH! IT’S JUST NOT FAIR! WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?! WHAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO BOSS PEOPLE ABOUT?! YOU’RE NOTHING BUT A BIG BULLY! WELL, I DON’T CARE ANY MORE! YOU CAN DO WHAT YOU LIKE! SEE IF I CARE! BECAUSE YOU’RE NOTHING BUT A COWARD! THAT’S WHAT YOU ARE, A COWARD! WELL YOU CAN JUST DROP DEAD FOR ALL I CARE! GO ON! DO YOUR WORST! I COULDN’T CARE LESS!”
“Oh, Tomas?” interjected Leif, softly.
“WHAT?!” screamed Tomas in reply. “WHAT NOW?! WHAT IS IT?!”
“It’s all because I say so, Tomas…” said the barbarian warlord quietly, as he pulled out his sword and hacked off Tomas of Brolin’s other arm.
“Now do as you’re told…”
Tomas looked down in horror at the twin stumps that were sticking out of his shoulders…he just could not believe it.
He waggled them round a bit, you know, to check…
…and then the full shock, horror and pain of having another arm cut off, hit him right in the gut…
“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH! WAAAAAAUGH! WAAAAUGH! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH! WAAUGH!WAAAUGH! WAAAAAUGH! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!
WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH! WAAAAAAUGH! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH! WAAUGH! WAAAUGH! WAAAAAUGH! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!
WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH! WAAAAAAUGH!
WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH! WAAUGH! WAAAUGH! WAAAAAUGH! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!
WAAAAAAUGH! WAAAUGH! WAAUGH! WAUGH! WA…WA..
SNIFF…SNIFF…SNIFF..
It’s just not fair…”
“Tomas?” asked the viking warlord…
“Yes, WHAT?” he sulked.
“You’re doing the crumhorn section, okay?”
Silence…
“Tomas?”
Silence…
“You’re doing the crumhorn, Tomas…okay? OKAY?!”
“…might do, might not…” snivelled Tomas.
“Tomas?” continued the fearsome chieftain. “If you don’t do the crumhorn, I’ll cut your other ‘arm’ off, alright? Do you get where I’m coming from, Tomas? Your other ‘arm’, geddit? Am I making myself clear, Tomas? Your other ‘arm’?”
[He won’t miss it] thought Agnetha.
…and so the vicious, bloodthirsty, sadistic killer that was Leif Erikson, turned away from the snivelling pasty bloodstained blob that was Tomas of Brolin, to face his august body of warriors. He drew himself up to his full height, as the import of the impending momentous show of viking strength filled him with pride…
This was IT…
“Oh mighty norsemen, heed my words of power! Stir thyselves! Let not the infidel of Albion…”
“Ummm…Boss…?” interjected Bjorn. “Shall we just go straight into it, Boss? Everybody’s ready, Boss?”
“Oh, okay then…” replied Leif Erikson. “HIT IT!”
…and Bjorn took up his place in the front row.
“Okay lads? 1 - 2 - 3 - 4…“
[Jens] bom b-bom b-bom b-bom b-bom b-bom b-bom b-bom
b-bom b-bom b-bom b-bom b-bom b-bom b-bom b-bom
[Anna-Frid] MY MY!
[Sven/Stig/Ymir] DA-DAA!
[Anna-Frid] At WA-DER-LOO Nah-POLE-yon-DID surr-ENDer…
[Jens] b-bom b-bom b-
[Anna-Frid] WO YEAH!
[Sven/Stig/Ymir] DA-DAA!
[Anna-Frid] And I-have-med-my-des-ti-ny in quide-a-sim-lar way
[Stig] DI-DING DA-DANG DUH-DUNG!
[Anna-Frid] A his-tory-book-on-the-shelf
[Stig] DI-DING DA-DANG DUH!
[Anna-Frid] Is-al-ways-re-pea-ding it- SEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELF!
[Bjorn/Benni/Agnetha/Anna-Frid] WAH-DER-LOO!
[Stig] DING DA-DANG DUH!
[Anna-Frid] HOW DOES IT-FEEL IF-YOU WON THE WAR?
[Tomas]
[Bjorn/Benni/Agnetha/Anna-Frid] WAH-DER-LOO!
[Stig] DING DA-DANG DUH!
[Anna-Frid] PRO-MISE YOU’LL LOVE-ME FOR EV-ER-MORE?!
[Tomas]
[Sven/Stig/Ymir] DA-DA DA-DA DA-DA!
[Bjorn/Benni/Agnetha/Anna-Frid] WAH-DER-LOO!
[Stig] DING DA-DANG DUH!
[Anna-Frid] COULD-N’T ES-CAPE IF-I-WAN-TED-TO!
[Tomas]
[Bjorn/Benni/Agnetha/Anna-Frid] WAH-DER-LOO!
[Stig] DING DA-DANG DUH!
[Anna-Frid] KNOW-ING MY-FADE-IS-TO-BE-WITH-YOU!
[Tomas]
[Bjorn/Benni/Agnetha/Anna-Frid] WHA-OH-OH-OH-OH-WA-DER-LOO!
[Stig] DING DA-DANG DUH!
[Anna-Frid] KNOW-ING MY-FADE-IS-TO-BE-WITH-YOU!
…and so it came to pass, in the year of Our Lord eight hundred and sixty-two. somewhere on a playing field on the southern floodplain of the great river of Albion, at this very moment in time, Tomas of Brolin blew a raspberry…
[Bjorn/Benni/Agnetha/Anna-Frid]WHA-OH-OH-OH-WA-DER-LOO!
[Tomas]
[Anna-Frid] KNOW-ING MY FADE IS TO BE-WITH-YOU
[Tomas]
[Bjorn/Benni/Agnetha/Anna-Frid] KNOW-ING MY FADE IS TO…
BEEEEE…WIIIIIIIIIIIIITH…YOO-OO-OO-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWO-OH-OH-OH-OOOOOOOOOOO…”
For a moment, there was a certain stillness, that strangely came o’er the assembled multitude. The words rolled away, midst strange and wondrous echoes of other, much much MUCH better songs, by much much MUCH better bands, with loads more talent, who wrote songs that actually were good, other songs that actually did touch the soul: the real sound of the seventies.
Both sides faced each other, unmoving…
…and then, as the full force of the viking’s energy rolled towards them and hit them in a full-frontal assault, the tribe of Albion all fell down, every single one of them, rolling on the ground, holding their stomachs in torment.
“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHAAAAAAAAAH!” screamed the viking warlord in triumph.
His horde of warriors erupted in an explosion of delight..
WOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOO!
But no-one was more delighted than their leader…
“You see!" shouted Leif. "You see! That's VIKING wizardry for you, see lads? HA! I knew that we’d win in the end! After all those stories, all those tales, well… all they were, in the end, when push came to shove, when the sun went down…
…when all was said and done…
…why…
…they were nothing but a bunch of…”
The vikings erupted in another massive cheer.
“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
“Sir! Sir!” piped a voice, through all the commotion of a group of heathen killers celebrating a mass slaughter.
“Step forward, brave warrior! Whoe’er ye may be!” said Leif, amiably. “Who is it there, who bids of his kind-hearted master, ne’er to be ignored? Pray speak, step forward good fellow! Who is it that speaks? Like the sweet south, breathing upon a bank of violets, stealing and..“
“By Jove, Sir!" said the voice. It was that serf, again. "Me, Sir! Oh yes! Sir! Me, Sir! I’ll step forward, Sir! Oh yes, Sir! I’ll do that, Sir! Right away, Sir! By Jove, Sir! You’ll never have seen such a good stepping-forward, Sir! It’s me, Sir! Me, Sir! Me, Sir!”
Leif was instantly in a bad mood. “And what the hell do YOU want, then?!” he asked.
“Sir!" replied the serf. "By Jove, Sir! Sir! Look, Sir! Over there, Sir! See, Sir? Just there, Sir? They’re NOT dying, Sir! And they’re not even mortally wounded, Sir! By Jove, Sir! They’re rolling on the floor, LAUGHING, Sir! “
[Those FIENDS] thought Leif…
Gradually, the commotion died down, as the Vikings realised that the power of their 'magical' singing had worked, only not quite in the way they’d intended.
And so the heart of Leif Erikson was, once more, gripped with the fear that he’d never known before. Because, deep within his heart-of-hearts, in a place that he never even knew existed, he knew, finally, that he was beaten…
…and his bottle went straight out the window.
“Go and see what they want, serf! NOW!" panicked the viking leader. “Ask them what terms they’ll offer us! FOR THE LOVE OF ODIN, MAN! HURRY!
…and as for you, Tomas of Brolin…” he continued, darkly…
"I’ll deal with you, later…”
……………….
“FU*K**G HELL!” screamed God. “WHAT THE *UCK DID THEY EXPECT? THEY WERE SH*TE! THEY ALWAYS WERE!”
[I wisheth he wouldn’t profaneth so low and uncouth] thought Jesus.
“I HEARDETH THAT!” screamed God.
………………
