Swedish Girl In London

London Life: Bright Lights, Big City. Now what's on TV?

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

They Shoot Polar Bears, Don't They?

The scene: The till of a popular fashion retailer in Long Acre Street, where Señorita Mas Fina, about 66.8% of London’s population and I have gone for some pre-Christmas present scanning. (Presents for ourselves, that is.)

The shop-boy, sporting a skin-tight T, asks la Señorita: “You from Spain?”
Senorita starts beaming, proving beyond doubt that Swedes and Spaniards are very different. If two Swedes manage to run in to each other abroad, they hide behind trees, rubbish bins, large members of the public etc. Spaniards assume their best torero stance and start bonding. After five minutes, it has probably been established that their first cousins went to the same primary school in Zaragoza.
“Hombre, sí!”
“I’m Italiano,” winks Shopboy, and turns to me: “You’re not Spanish.”
“No.”
“English?”
“No.”
“Swedish?”
I’m a bit taken aback, because it normally takes a detour via Belorussia before we end up in dear old Scandinavia. “Yes!”
Now, Shop-boy turns back to la Senorita and tells her in a confidential voice: “Swedish girls are mad for it. Very caliente. I had one back home last night and…”
I start rolling my eyes, while the treacherous Señorita is laughing.
“Swedish girls all drink like a horse and fall over,” Shopboy continues his anthropological lesson. “They’re a bit.. you know…” More chuckling & winking, while I have taken to combine the eye-rolling with exasperated foot-tapping.
Shopboy, oblivious: “Easy-peasy, you know. Just give them a vodka and…”
“Oh for God’s sake,” I burst out and stormed off into the lingerie department to seethe by a rack of Snoopy knickers, while Senorita completed her purchase. (That showed him!)

Later:
“Hehe,” says la Señorita, “you’re really angry.”
“I’m not angry!” I say (angrily). “I just try to work against these stereotypes, that’s all.”
“All right, all right.”
“Caliente my foot! And who’s he to talk? Probably has a really furry chest and still lives with his mum.”
“Glad to see that you’re not one for stereotyping.”
“Thanks. What did you buy?”

6 Comments:

At 9:37 PM, Blogger Zen Wizard said...

So you go there to BUY something, and SPEND MONEY, and he calls you a nymphomaniac and a lush??

I hope this guy wasn't "Employee of the Month" that month!

He would last about 2 minutes on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills!

 
At 10:42 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I must object to the headline... I *never* shoot Polar Bears...

Unless they try to hunt the penguins in the pond behind my house, but I dont think that counts...

 
At 9:12 AM, Blogger Khimaera said...

Ah, the myth of the Swedish girls.
Oh, the vodka trick. (One glass and she's yours)

As a Swedish male I must say that at least in Sweden it will take you more then a drink to get a Swedish girl out of her clothes.

But perhaps they go insane when they're abroad, wearing rip-friendly clothing for easy access. I don't know, they keep hiding from me when they find out I'm Swedish.

 
At 11:53 AM, Blogger Kontorsmyran said...

It´s all true, the myth about swedish women is correct.

Give them one drink, any drink and they will do whatever you want them to. It will be better then any sexual fantasy you ever had.

I mean, why would I else leave Sweden? I just couldnt handle having so much sex all the time....

=)

 
At 3:54 PM, Anonymous south american girl said...

I couldn’t stop laughing when I read “probably he has a really furry chest and still lives with his mum”. By the way, in Italy the sons who depend on maternal care well into adulthood are called “Mammoni”, and it DOES GO for those who live in South America as well. Why? Blame on our bruised financial system… Mm. Who knows?

For further information, why don’t you have a look at: “Italians slow to leave the nest?”

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/4227675.stm

Enjoy it!

Concerning the manners of that shop boy -- does he exist? -- I’d rather keep my mouth shut…

 
At 4:42 PM, Blogger Swedish Girl said...

The preposterous shopboy sadly exists and can be visited at H&M in Long Acre Street...

But time heals all wounds, and I have now got over my initial irritation.

I think I know someone who does NOT exist though, and that's the Swedish lady he claimed to have entertained with vodka and Italian luvin' the previous night!

Thanks for the info on mamitos and the link - it's great! Hehehe. Maybe I should go back to Long Acre Street and tell shopboy he's even being discussed by the BBC...

:-)

 

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