Back in a time where my people ruled supreme over much of what is now northern Europe, there were lots of activities carried out that are looked upon these days with disgust and anger among the modern people. In order to adjust to the modern way of living, I have altered my habits and ways to try and live more in tune with the 21^st century society. Instead of rape, pillage and theft of my enemies, I now spend much of my time using the internet to conduct the new modern, safe, fun and generally harmless alternative which is commonly known as frape.

This is an activity whereby I hack into other peoples Facebook account and rape it. Although that word has many negative connotations attached to it, in this instance it is more or less a harmless activity. I simply hack into the account and make numerous crude and vile comments that are sure to make the friends and families of the frape victim feel as if their child has gone wayward and turned to the dark side. If I am feeling like inflicting a particularly devastating frape attack, then I will write something that is particularly disturbing and personal. I sometimes even add vulgar videos and links to things that the person would hate to be associated with.

Although it sounds like a dreadful attack on an innocent victim, which it is, the effects are more or less forgotten about within a few days, except for when an elderly family member is one of the friends that views the frape, and they are scared by the words or images that they have seen. The joy of the frape is that it can be conducted at any time and in just a few seconds, as long as you have the password. I even managed to conduct a frape on a friend whilst at work selling office furniture London.

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When I think back to all the hardships that the original Vikings went through, just to get through the day, let alone conquer most of northern Europe, it makes me glad that I am living now and not way back in the Dark Ages. I have enough trouble finding a place to park the longboat now every single day, let alone centuries ago when there would have been dozens of them circling round and round the parking lot. And trying to find red diesel suppliers may be tough, but I’m sure it was tougher when you lost your only son to wolves after sending him into the forest to get some firewood…

I’m sure the old school Vikings would say that we have things easy today. The modern Viking hut comes with all mod-cons like a gas-powered fire pit and a pipe that brings fresh water right to your door. Not that we use it for anything other than cooking, of course. We may be modern Vikings, but we still only wash once a year. If we scrubbed ourselves clean like all those Anglo-Saxons and Normans, predators (like my boss) would be able to smell us a mile off and we’d never get a minute’s peace…

It is tough to decide between living the luxurious life of the modern Viking or giving up all the gadgets that make our lives better to be around in the good old days, when we ruled the waves and could help ourselves to as much booty as we could get in the longboat. It is a shame we can not still live the lifestyle of the old Vikings with the benefit of today’s modern inventions – but you would never manage to get the old school horned helmet through the metal detectors at an airport for one!

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It can be pretty difficult being a modern Viking. Unlike my ancestors, who had it pretty easy, it’s almost impossible for me to find a village that hasn’t already been plundered by the local authorities and the Westminster government. By the time I turn up wielding my trusty axe, the poor sods have literally got nothing left to give. It doesn’t do much for a Viking’s self esteem to be leaving empty handed so often…

This is why I have decided to wage war on a different set of enemies; ones that the modern Viking can truly sink his or her teeth into. I only started coming up with my list an hour ago and it already covers two sides of A4. I don’t really know if that says more about me or more about the strange and unusual world that I find myself in! Pop up banners, computer viruses and the people who distribute computer viruses – they were first against the wall, as the revolutionaries would say, and I bet they would make a lot of Viking’s list of enemies. But I suspect a few items are very personal to me!

People who talk during the trailers at the cinema are destined for a very special kind of torture. I love the trailers; often they’re even better than the film you’ve come to see. People who talk during gigs are for the high jump too. In fact, my Viking world would probably be pretty quiet, until we had all quaffed a few flagons of ale and started a good old fashioned sing-a-long. Undoubtedly top of the list are the creators of Jorvik, which may seem strange coming from such a Vikingophile as me. But have you been to the place? Man, they have made us Vikings look bad. And not just look bad, but smell bad too and, for some strange reason, they seem to be suggesting there are no more Vikings in existence. Well, I know a few people in Norway and even the Shetlands who would take issue with a statement like that. I say we sharpen our axes and march on York! It’ll be just like the good old days.

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When you think of Vikings, art classes aren’t really usually something that come to mind. Nah, Vikings much prefer to spend their time beating things with big clubs or heading out on the water to get up to some mischief.
But surely there must have been some Vikings out there with some impressive artistic skills? And we’re not just talking spraying blood on a wall or making some art out of some crunched up animal bones. We’re talking a Viking with a quiet, soft soul who might need to express himself or something like that. A Viking with actual feelings and a desire to get them out on paper, or parchment, or on a wall–who knows.
Viking art classes certainly seem like the stuff of mythology, though it’s hard to imagine Thor sitting back with a paintbrush and easel as he painted a pleasant scene of ransacking and pillaging. But stranger things have happened, no doubt, and there are probably plenty of hard-done-by Viking artists lurking somewhere in history.
One can’t help but wonder how a Viking artist would make his or her way in the world. Would the Viking artist be mocked and maligned? Would they have their paintbrushes snapped and thrown into the ocean? Or would they be secretly respected for their skills at creating something out of nothing?
Still, there’s no doubt that the life of a Viking artist would be tough work. Your paints would freeze, it’d be hard to make paint brushes from the fur of a seal, and you’d have to beg to get wood to frame your paintings with.

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In this digital age of nonsense that I do not understand, I hear much talk of going out on the morrow and getting drunketh…blind drunketh…and I will have no part in it! No, much as I love a swig of pig’s blood mixed with a hearty helping of snail’s slush, I also love my raping. Thus, on a Friday night, me and my Viking friends rush forth to rape and terrorize hoards of innocent women.

OK, now this is not entirely true, for I have already lied-eth! No, the truth is that back in the bygone ages of time we could do the raping, but now we must only play what is called the make-believe. Now, we must be content with running into what the modern people call ’bars’and stealing women, throwing them over our shoulders and running off down dark alleyways. Before releasing them back unto the world, kicking and screaming.

The last thing to be taken from my person was my lucky beggar’s tooth, ripped from the mouth of a beggar in the late 18th Century by a great ancestor of mine who has a name too long and complex to be written down here

Ah, the fake-rape is such a rush and a tradition of the Vikings that it must be practised often as can be.

There is one such problem with this, of course, and that is the fact that very so often a policeman or woman will see us do this and give chase. Believing the women to be in danger, the police then promptly arrest us and ask us if we have been drinking. They also go through our sheep-skin coats and raid us of our livelyhoods. The last thing to be taken from my person was my lucky beggar’s tooth, ripped from the mouth of a beggar in the late 18^th Century by a great ancestor of mine who has a name too long and complex to be written down here (and plus literacy is not my strongpoint).

One thing is sure and certain as a goat is angry when having its throat slit with a sharp knife: we will forever carry out our traditions, even when they converge with the ways of the modern man. For the modern man may pretend to be greater and more refined – with his art tuition and his feminine values which disgust us Vikings – but he will never know the true greatness that can be found in a man who actively keeps hold of the strange-hold of tradition! (And not must he ever know of the greatness. We fear the day that this is learned by modern man. It will be the day a piece of our Viking heart dies a slow awful death, blah!)

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In this digital age of nonsense that I do not understand, I hear much talk of going out on the morrow and getting drunketh…blind drunketh…and I will have no part in it! No, much as I love a swig of pig’s blood mixed with a hearty helping of snail’s slush, I also love my raping. Thus, on a Friday night, me and my Viking friends rush forth to rape and terrorize hoards of innocent women.

OK, now this is not entirely true, for I have already lied-eth! No, the truth is that back in the bygone ages of time we could do the raping, but now we must only play what is called the make-believe. Now, we must be content with running into what the modern people call ’bars’and stealing women, throwing them over our shoulders and running off down dark alleyways. Before releasing them back unto the world, kicking and screaming.

The last thing to be taken from my person was my lucky beggar’s tooth, ripped from the mouth of a beggar in the late 18th Century by a great ancestor of mine who has a name too long and complex to be written down here

Ah, the fake-rape is such a rush and a tradition of the Vikings that it must be practised often as can be.

There is one such problem with this, of course, and that is the fact that very so often a policeman or woman will see us do this and give chase. Believing the women to be in danger, the police then promptly arrest us and ask us if we have been drinking. They also go through our sheep-skin coats and raid us of our livelyhoods. The last thing to be taken from my person was my lucky beggar’s tooth, ripped from the mouth of a beggar in the late 18^th Century by a great ancestor of mine who has a name too long and complex to be written down here (and plus literacy is not my strongpoint).

One thing is sure and certain as a goat is angry when having its throat slit with a sharp knife: we will forever carry out our traditions, even when they converge with the ways of the modern man. For the modern man may pretend to be greater and more refined – with his art tuition and his feminine values which disgust us Vikings – but he will never know the true greatness that can be found in a man who actively keeps hold of the strange-hold of tradition! (And not must he ever know of the greatness. We fear the day that this is learned by modern man. It will be the day a piece of our Viking heart dies a slow awful death, blah!)

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I once had a good friend called rowan dartington who is proof. He now lays buried and rotting and eaten by beasts galore in a shallow un-marked grave. Sometimes I miss him, but more often than not I think FOOL! IT WAS YOUR OWN FAULT! AND YOU WERE VERY LUCKY TO BE BURIED IN A GRAVE AT ALL, COME TO VIKING-THINK-OF-IT!

The right and traditional way to do things is like a gang of Vikings demonstrates. You go in heavy and screaming – you can also be covered in rotting flesh to scare your victims and make them think twice about hitting you or, indeed, of coming within 15 horses galloping steps of you – and you do not stop until many rapes have occurred, until everything has been stolen, and the job is well and truly considered a success! There can also be lots of blood and dead bodies lying around. A scattering of intestines and other such bodily organs also look most attractive and, most importantly of all, they show all enemies that you pose a dreadful threat and should not be messed with!

Goodness, how I love being a Viking…

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Such as what follows in this here scribe:

1) The nether regions can come under fire quite literally from flames. This is bad news, and can singe the hair of the nether regions, as well as ones genitals, no matter how industrious!

2) The wrong village can be set alight. Alas! O, much fun as the twisted fire-starting is, it must be done to the right naysayers, less a war is started!

3) Bad things such as this are no good for a Viking King’s reputation.

4) It can create an unpleasant smell when done wrong. Especially when you set alight lots of what the modern man calls ’manure’. This is a smell of purest unbridled horror that I wish upon nobody but my worst enemy, and on him I wish it in droves like a sky filled with tormenting falling crabs!

5) A lady’s Lace Fabrics may be set alight, and while this is indeed GOOOOOOOOD for seeing the lady without any clothes on – her naked flesh thus exposed! – this may lead to problems and future wars with the lady’s husband…this should be avoided at all costs (unless you are due some raping and pillaging and violence, in which case please, go ahead!).

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Nowadays it is much less simple. All kinds of things get in the way, and here are just a few you need be wary of.

1) Difficult to get into accommodation: ah! No longer are doors wooden, oh no! Instead, the demon of plastic lurks everywhere. And then there are cyprus villas with what is called “CCTV”, a demonic all-seeing force which no viking can escape. For these reasons, several men must break a door down. This would ordinarily be fine, but us vikings usually like to save our energy for the next part: raping and pillaging.

2) Modern people who do not understand our ways: yes, we can be a brutal kind, but we have no choice but to do what we do, for it is God’s will. Thus we must keep telling the moderners the same thing and hope they stop resisting. I hope they do, for although I am strong as actual Ox, every viking needs a break every once in a while.
3) Modern gates: these metal behemoths, controlled by the ghostly dark forces of the modern age, present a real problem. But we have clubs and are strong, so no matter, we simply break these monstrosities down!
4) The moderners'dogs! A brutal race, they will stop at nothing. Luckily our massive knives take care of their soft bellies, ahha!

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Being a Viking marauder isn’t the unadulterated thrill it used to be. Sure, it’s still fun. The axe of my grandfather is still the axe of my grandfather and all that. It’s just that modern technology makes the whole thing so much more difficult. Used to be, in the old days of longboats raiding the Saxon coastline, the only warning villagers would get would be the sight of our sails on their horizon. Nowadays it’s all coastal radar, early warning systems, mobile phones and by the time we actually arrive to pillage a village, there’s nobody left in the area. Not to mention DNA testing. To be honest with you it just makes marauding a bit of a grind when people can send each other a quick text letting their mates know that the horde is on its way!

Maybe it’s time for us raiders to change our game a little bit. Use some modern technology of our own. Submarines! Stealth bombers! And something cunning so that I can avoid the inevitable DNA Test that people will want to run after we’ve committed whichever atrocity we’re aiming for next. I’m not quite sure what this might involve, except maybe finding a way to break into some sort of secret government weapons cache and steal them all. Maybe we should do things how the Icelanders do them, and set up some dodgy banks instead. That’d be a way to solve things - and probably cheaper and definitely less stressful than sailing across the North Sea!

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