(And commenters on YouTube come out with such profundities as ‘I’m so proud to have Viking blood in my veins.’ That’s the amusing bit.)
Nevertheless, tonight’s offering did have one scene worthy of note. The hairy and intrepid warriors are gathered around a notably macho bonfire some time after nightfall being lectured by the hairy chief with the vomit-encrusted beard (and whose designer waves have been liberally treated with old axle grease so we know he’s definitely a death metal fan and never listens to Scandinavian folk songs.) Tonight they will have beer and brotherhood, he tells them, but with the coming of the dawn they must be prepared to fight for their place in Valhalla. The dawn will bring a new day, and the new day might be the last they spend in Midgard. It was truly heroic stuff, engendering an uplifting sense that extreme violence is the only way to attain spiritual advancement.
But you know, I couldn’t help imagining one guy at the back putting his hand up.
‘Excuse me, chief.’
‘What is it, Sweyn son of Eric the Ever Ready of Hardangerfjord?’
‘Well… it’s just that… well… erm... I’m not really a morning person.’