On the growth of Norwegians



A belated happy birthday is issued from the editorial staff of the Woolamaloo Gazette to young mister Vegar, being, as of the other day, 36 (a whole year younger than us, the swine, how dare he). One of the finer exports from Norway, along with Salted Herring Ale, Vegar is a freelance programmer of computers designing Viking Longships, an expert in the Scandinavian martial art of Seal Tossing and also a good mate and fellow crew member of the Alien Online. He has also been known to be a charitable man who buys beer for wandering Scottish booksellers lost in Manchester after their bank card has been swallowed by their ATM and their pockets have exploded.



Vegar was born just over 36 years ago in Tromso, Norway. As is common in the land of the Slartibartfast-designed fjords in February it was cold and a snow storm was blowing. Vegar's mother had been happily knitting baby ski-shoes for her new arrival when she felt the beginnings of labour. Alas the snowstorm had blocked all of the roads and Vegar's father had to ride out for medical help on a large Arctic seal across the freezing fjord. Unable to reach the midwife he sought help from a more tradional (for Norwegians anyway) source and took himself, by seal, to a nearby cave under a bridge. Thus is was young Vegar was brought into the world by a Troll as a midwife.



At the age of five he began his studies of the ancient art, handed down from his Viking ancestors, of Seal Tossing. This has proved handy over the years and there are few roughnecks who are still standing in a bar brawl after being slapped around the head and body with a stuffed seal wielded by an irate (and inebriated) Norwegian Seal Tosser (sixth level). On his tenth birthday he was ceremoniously presented with his favourite Viking war axe. Although mostly a ceremonial weapon these days it is still used on occassion, most often on people who think he is Swedish and ask him to sing an Abba medley.



Now living in the north of England, Vegar is happily married with two children (currently preparing for their Seal Tossing studies) and a Troll in the garden shed called Hauvar. In his mid-thirties he still dreams of taking the stage as a Rock God and punching papaprazzi photographers afterwards. On weekends he enjoys taking the kids sailing in his longboat for a spot of pillaging, although these raids are mostly confined to attacks on the local muffin shop and the council tax offices. We wish him happy birthday and many more healthy ones to come.