I once asked a beautiful Icelandic girl called Solveig to go out with me. It was the culmination of weeks of soul-searching, of carefully reading body language, of soothsayers reading my runes in remote mountain caves, and of several glasses of beer.
She said no.
In my blistering fury I cast a magic spell that would render the Icelandic language unintelligible for all eternity. So that no man would have to bear the shame that befell me that day.
Then I unleashed Bjork on them. The rest is history.
OK that second part’s not true dammit, but I was proper vexed, I can tell you that much. If I’d had such a capability, my retribution would’ve been swift and terrible no doubt. But bereft of magic or skills of any kind for that matter, I turned around and walked away nursing my gang-raped pride.
This song doesn’t remind me of her in the slightest, but I’d have felt remiss not mentioning it.
Oy! Stop snoring at the back there – it’s rude! Yes you!! The spotty girl with the sour face.
Pearls before swine!
Anyway you Godless heathens – here’s your damn music:
Edvard Grieg – Solveig’s Song: