Exodus

This week is winter holiday in Norway and the papers are brimming with reports of the annual exodus from Norwegian cities to the mountains for a week’s skiing. Norwegians enjoy 5 weeks of holidays a year (Second Place Is For Losers), though by my estimation most take double that due to voluntary overtime or involuntary incompetence.

The exodus has led to, amongst other things, a slow domestic news week. I am drawn to the front page headline 'Man Reports Roof Missing' for further investigation. A man arrived at his mountain cabin to find the entire roof missing. He promptly reported it to the authorities. The cabin is in a remote location and takes 2 hours to ski into.

Photo: Associated Press

"It must have weighed at least 2 tons," he said. "This is just wild. There must have been amazing forces at work here."

Local police immediately launched a helicopter and a special dog “roof sniffing” search team to locate the roof and apprehend the amazing forces.

“We are not sure how far they have got, but with two tons of roof, in deep snow, we are hoping at minimum to recover the roof, though we are prepared that it may already be out of the country” reported a police spokesman.

The rising tide of crime, which is usually blamed on foreign immigrants, has now moved from urban areas to the Norwegian heartlands. Roofs have become the latest target and are believed to be leaving the country at a rate of hundreds a day destined for developing countries suffering roof shortages.

“We are not safe anywhere anymore,” cried a man from Stavern, Norway’s smallest town known as ‘The Dimple of Norway’. He suffered the unfortunate tragedy of having his car, roof and wife stolen in the same week.

BB has remained safely in the office this week seeking quiet. I have been hugely productive without the local impediments stopping everything I do dead in its tracks.

Just a few more days and I will have brokered a deal to sell a large fjord and mountain range on government land in the northern part of the country to the Chinese. No one has taken notice. Lord knows what they will do with the land or how long I will be able to keep it a secret.

I suspect they are planning to build a roof factory.

Beaverboosh

Double Your Pleasure

Mrs. Beaverboosh and I have two of most things, in addition to arms, legs, eyes, and ears. We are just “that sort of folk”. We are fortunate and grateful for our abundant provenance and have worked hard for it. The capital markets have extracted their two pounds of flesh from each of us.

When shopping together if an article of clothing elicits the response ‘that looks great on you’ from the other, two of the same item are procured. This of course extends to shoes and to accessories.

We both have: two sets of downhill skis, one for powder, one for piste; two sets of cross country skis, one for tracks, one for mountains; and two sets of golf clubs, one for playing with, one for cursing and abusing.

We have: two properties, one in town, one in country; and two automobiles, one for practical stuff, one for BB’s testosterone.

We both have: two computers, one for work, one for home; two diaries, one on-line, one off-line; and two ipods, one for the gym, one for fuck knows.

We have two holidays a year, one is summer, and one in winter, generally lasting two weeks each.

We have two charities that we dedicate time and resources to, one for global concerns and one for local concerns which is often the recipient of a lot of second hand seconds.

I am reflecting on this binary obsession. I seriously consider having another penis installed. Sizing up the possibilities is making me dizzy.

Two heads are better than one.

I present the idea for evaluation to Mrs. BB. She is draped across the sofa, deeply engaged in activities of the on-line variety. Without hesitation or casting a glance in my direction she replies “Darling, I have more than a girl can ask for with the one between your legs and the one on your shoulders.”

Apparently, three’s a crowd.

Beaverboosh

What Have You Been Smoking?

The English have gone mad. They are smoking skunk! Apparently, smoking skunk turns one catatonic and can lead to permanent psychosis! My eyes water just thinking of the smell.

Our little Mephitidae friends are found in Canada and the US but are not natural habitants of the UK. The Brits must be importing them. I thought badgers would have been the first choice as they are in great abundance in the UK. Badger arse hair is the preferred shaving brush implement of the gentry which might put people off smoking them.

Peppy LePew, if you are reading this, run for fear this trend grips France.

The next thing you know, Canadians will be smoking beaver.

Oddly enough, Amy Winehouse is keen on smoking crack! I assume it is her own she is smoking and not someone else’s. I have not heard of this technique but surely a waxing would be more effective than smoking her kipper if hair removal is the objective, especially if she is using woodchips. What a mess!

I had a South African colleague who often asked, “are you smoking your socks?” This was usually the result of one of my extreme project work demands like, "can you climb to the top of Mt. Everest without oxygen, clean up the rubbish, and be back down by 4 to pick up my dry cleaning?"

I treasure my cashmere socks and weep inconsolably when a hole appears, I could not think of smoking them! I do not know if there is a long tradition of smoking one’s socks in South Africa. It most certainly explains why there were so many sock-less spaced out people walking around Johannesburg the last time I visited.

I worked with an American in London who would often say to me, “put that in your pipe and smoke it!” I thought this particularly strange as I don’t smoke a pipe. Another of his favourite announcements was, “run that up your flagpole!” I mean really, who has a flagpole in London bar the Queen.

To avert the smoking ban, Hookah cafés starting popping up in the US citing exclusions on both religious and cultural grounds. Smoking fruit flavoured tobacco in the shisha has become popular. Americans are crazy enough without this weed concoction affecting their judgement. The Arabs have been smoking the stuff for over 3000 years and look what it’s done to them!

Let us be hopeful that maybe it will bring the 2 cultures a bit closer together.

Following the smoking ban in France, critics argued of the impending cultural peril of their precious café culture. I cannot take the French seriously, except on matters of wine, cheese, and infidelity. The thought of French cafés filled with the din of intellectually bankrupt idealism, flailing gesticulations, pouting lower lips, and inferior espresso sans Gitanes makes me giggle.

The public smoking ban is being implemented in many countries and though I know this is for the good of mankind, it has taken away from public sights, one of my small indulgences. To Beaverboosh, a cheeky Marly light with a stiff cocktail is almost like good sex, with myself of course.

Thank the gods, I can still smoke on the roof top terrace of my London club. It is a long way from Oslo to go for a martini and a cigarette, but well worth it, and its décor reminds me of being in Marrakech, except in the winter when it is cold and wet when it reminds me of being in, uhm England.

I wonder if they have started smoking skunk in Soho. I doubt it. I cannot believe the Soho sophisti-cats would stoop to such suburban practices.

Beaverboosh