Quentin frikkin Tarantino

Well now...what can we say? There are times when the English Dictionary cannot cover the amount of expletives one would feel duty bound to use on such an occasion.
Now see, Tarantino is the kind of man that they call a genius of film..babble babble..blahblah..burp...zzzz... and he probably is..if you are into the i´ll just eat my sandwich whilst you clean Uncle Terry´s brains off the backseat kinda thing.
The man is definately cool, even if he does look like Jaws out of James Bond, but wethinks it´s high time Icelandic society dragged their heads out of their arses for....ooh let us see = 5 minutes and thought about how we are being represented in them there countries they call “The Útlanda” (thats ‘abroad’ to the uninitiated)
Yes we are apparently the worlds largest producer of drunken, loose women. Come to Iceland...soak in the lagoon that is blue....eat some whale and puffin..and then head to the nearest nightclub where you will find blondes in a row, with numbers. We are sooo independant that we get drunk all by ourselves... so we are cheap too. Now...pick a girl, get her home and get to page 87 of the Karma Sutra.Now just one final tip (compliments of Quentin) ......make sure you get us home before we throw up.
Well far be it for us to pass judgement.....but sleeping with Jaws probably requires at least four litres of Dutch courage and if a woman throws up when you get her home....well lets just say that you should probably stick to the day job mate.
Many things could be said about us Icelanders but one thing is for certain. In this country we have moved on from the dark ages and if a woman wants to do as she pleases...that´s her prerogative. Having said that women and men in Iceland certainly need to readdress their views on nightly activities and the state that is “sloshedness” but that’s for us to deal with... not you, Mr. Tarrantino. Suffice it to say, if it wasn’t for the fact that you are a world-reknowned director, you can bet your life that the selection of drunken blondes that presented themselves for your amusement in the clubs of Reykjavík would certainly have preferred to have been dancing with the retired, the dead and the infirm at the nearest mental health facility than with you!!!

End of Song...Beginning of Story

Once upon a time there were two sisters. It was a misty morning at Marylebone Station, when two aligator bags were found in the first class(obviously..) compartment of a coal-less train destined for Peckham Central.
On hearing the melodic almost siren like crying, the conducter searched frantically to locate the helpless babies that would later be identified as the chosen ones.
On finding them he found that only marmite sandwiches, with a side serving of salt and vinegar chipsticks would calm them... washed down with an ample serving of Tetleys.
It was a tragedy......He knew that saving them was mankind's only chance. He realised almost immediately that their bright light would have to shine all over the world..and that this ....COULD ONLY mean separation.
On hearing his calling(an etiffany),he promptly called the local bobby(called John..referred to as Roger) to take the babies away...because he could feel the pull of their hazel eyes. Bobby John Roger knew that he had to move fast. He placed them both on a stall at Spittlefields Market with a notice saying "Call them and they will come".
He made an arrangement with the stall man that the first child would be named Lisa Marie(codename Rodney) after the daughter of the man known as KING and the Mother known as beehive, and that her true guardians could pull a turnip out of the soil on the Wednesday that is Friday.
The second child was a girl named Hulda Kristín(codename the Del that is Boy) after the Greek prophet of the oracular "Huldypso" (the hidden one). Her Guardians would reveal themselves by walking backwards in a forward position and writing supercallafragalisticexpialidocious..phonetically on their foreheads.
Many years passed until the true guardians presented themselves... meanwhile, the chosen ones had pretty much raised themselves among the fruit and veg. They learned how to peel a carrot before they learned how to walk... their first words... mange tout and chateau neuf de pape! Their destinies had been sealed... Harrow on the Hill and St. Helier.
THE FUTURE WOULD HOLD PROFOUND REVELATIONS!!!!