Ikea flat pack furniture: Sweden's polite way of terrorising the gullible
By: Scarlett (12 December 2008)
Now some may allege I used to be a tad critical of Sweden - having moved to that icicle hell from the somewhat sunnier climes of the Middle East. Bias aside, however, I truly believe Swedes are secretly villainous Vikings bent on world domination by dint of a portfolio of sinister plans. Said plans reveal a startling degree of ingenuity and cunning, discernible only to the practiced eye. Bear with me. A nation whose people stockpile and eat rotted herring willingly, yet export top-notch vodka in huge quantities, simply has to have an agenda.
First off, they implemented the Nobel Peace Prize to give themselves street-cred and sufficient international approbation to globally popularise meatballs and beetroot... spot the buoyant Scandinavian economy anyone?
Next, they lulled the English speaking world into complacency by including a few common sounding words in their language, like 'bra' and 'tack' - which although representing 'good' and 'thanks' didn't panic us because we could confidently pronounce them. It was within our smug cocoon of linguistic complacency that they then suddenly thwapped us with a medley of lilting diphthongs no god-fearing person should ever have to encounter.
Having left us reeling - totally unable to say the word 'seven' (try 'hwhu' with an energetically breathy beginning and an accented nasal contortion, simultaneously flapping tongue against palate like a glottal cat-flap - and you may approximate it sufficiently well that onlookers merely snigger and point at you.) They then flaunt a few world-class winter sports stars, ABBA and a selection of classy porn to distract our attention completely.
Finally, with world suspicion averted, and the self-confidence only a nation of natural blondes can muster, they slap up an IKEA store in every major city on the planet and in the whiff of a vanilla candle seduce an unsuspecting public with dreams of stripped pine and coordinating bed linen. We poor fools queue for hours in order to purchase several very heavy boxes of planks to transport home and assemble ourselves.
Except we can't assemble them, can we? How many more people must crawl around a precariously ledged birch baton, before steps are taken? How many more puzzled and dejected punters will waste endless Sunday afternoons rotating small blurred drawings? The cruelty has to stop.
I've got your number, Sweden old chum. It was an almost failsafe plan, meticulously hatched and executed with magnificent aplomb. But I'm onto you now. No longer can you Swedes hide behind discreetly lit shelving units, sniggering. Your economy will never see another krona from my pocket.
I have already lost my temper, my dosh, and my dignity. I've rallied screws like troops, and still have one left over. (It's sitting next to the 2 dowel plugs that are also left over.) Before this debacle I considered myself a competent and resourceful professional. I now know better.
Next time I'll lop a spruce and slap myself with the branches. That would be an altogether happier experience!
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"Don't even get me started on that torture called Ikea. I will be TMHO:)"
summer (14 December 2008)
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