Well, thanks for the :D’s, because I was oblivious to the fact that I was revealing it, and cannot plead “not guilty” to the jackass charge. Please note, however, that AClockworkMelon was almost certainly making a simulpost, and would have qualified for “jackass” had I not been so efficient. 
Melon, could you please post a little quicker next time? 
They shouldn’t pick on Norwegians. They have something the Swedes don’t have: Good neighbors!
että ei ole kivaa, :mad:
As a banana slug, I find that offensive.
Maybe they chose that because of the mickey-taking Landover church having this meme about God really really hating Norway.
This is as good a time as any to tell a pretty irrelevant story with a Norwegian punchline.
One day I needed to meet a friend at a bank in Ngaoundere, Cameroon, a fairly remote regional capital. My colleague and I got off of our bush taxi and hopped on a pair of motorcycle taxis. They only really spoke the local language, so it took a lot of negotiating before we could clarify the destination and agree on a price. We get on, but instead of taking us into town, they begin to take us down some dirt roads in the outskirts and out into the bush. At this point I’m a little worried, but I don’t know the city well and in North Cameroon the difference between “downtown” and “barren field with a few huts” is not as distinct as it could be and “I think I’m about to be taken into a field and chopped into pieces” is actually a pretty common emotion during ordinary daily commutes. Anyway these guys didn’t understand enough French for me to question them much. So I decide to hang on and see where we end up.
We enter a large clearing in a bit of a forest. Without a word, the taximen drop us off in the middle of it and take off in a cloud of dust. Clearly, they didn’t understand the word “banque.”
My friend and I look at each other for a few moments, wondering where we are or what to do. We are literally in the middle of nowhere, without a building or even much of a road in sight. Where are we? How will we ever get a taxi back into town? Why did they take us here, of all places?
To our surprise, and man with flowing Islamic robes comes out from behind some trees and shakes our hands in the customary fashion. He opens his mouth and says in flawless French:
“Good Afternoon. Are you Norwegian?”
Were you wearing blue ankle socks?
Sorry if I touched a nerve 
My experience with the Norwegians has been, shall we say, mixed. I’d mention the high point, but that’s a little too much information, and I’d mention the low point, but that’s a little too much information too.
nah us Finns are a grumpy lot! 
If I knew it was a liberal, hip-enough church, I actually would have found fags funny.
Or, you know, if Phred were protesting somewhere nearby.