In the north.

‘Skål!’ Tom exclaims as he raises his glass.

‘What’s that?’

‘It means cheers in Swedish.’

‘Have you got completely native?’

‘Yes. When in Rome and all that.’

‘But we aren’t in Rome, are we?’

‘No. But we should make an effort to speak the local tongue, shouldn’t we?’

‘So far, my experience with this language is beyond comprehension.’

‘Well, consider this your first lesson, then. Skål!’ Tom repeats, lifting his glass again.

‘Cheers,’ Jerry mutters stubbornly.

A client of Jerry has generously offered his summer house in Sweden for them to enjoy at no cost. Nestled in a picturesque setting, the home boasts beautiful views of the lake. At 5 PM, Tom and Jerry are relaxing in the tranquil, rural atmosphere, leaning back in deck chairs on the old wooden jetty. The location is Hälsingland, a remote area in northern Sweden where the nearest shop is a couple of hours away. For urban dwellers like them, who grew up in the heart of London, surrounded by asphalt, fumes, and crowds, this place feels like a special getaway.

Jerry poured himself another glass of Aquavit. ‘I bet the locals don’t even consider this place to be the North. After all, it’s not even halfway up this long stretch of country.’ Tom nudged his glass toward Jerry, signalling for a refill. ‘Any sensible person would, of course, question why we are here.’

‘Absolutely,” Jerry responded, ‘but right now, it suits me just fine.’ They were enjoying the warm afternoon sun, and so far, Jerry had managed to avoid falling into the lake, which is otherwise a common tradition after having one too many drinks.

Anyone brave enough to venture into Scandinavia’s North must contend with the annoyance of mosquitoes and midges. Fortunately, they have been lucky so far today, as the wind has kept the insects at bay. However, that moment has passed, and the wind is now nearly nonexistent. They find themselves in a serious confrontation with the bugs. Tom swats at them with his hand, exclaiming, ‘Isn’t there anyone around who can spray these pesky northern pests with DDT or something?’

As humans, we possess a remarkable ability to adapt. We typically cope with various challenges, such as storms, hunger, drought, and freezing temperatures. Now, it’s Tom and Jerry’s turn to adjust as they face the first wave of a mosquito assault. They have donned long sleeves, put on their bravest faces, and are determined to outsmart the enemy. Jerry, always the experimentalist, is dousing himself from head to toe with a homemade repellent mixture. ‘Do you want some of my Agent Orange?’ he asks.

‘Can I drink it?’

‘Sure.’

Tom, on the other hand, identifies as an alternative environmentalist. He responds, ‘Thanks, but no thanks,’ and instead uses his mixture of tar and lemon insect repellent.

The weather is unpredictable, and as the wind picks up again, the sounds from the busy little engines finally fade into silence. Evening is approaching slowly, but the drinks are being consumed quickly. They’ve gone back to basics and are listening to a small transistor radio they found on a shelf in the house. The volume is low, which is probably for the best, as the station is tuned to Finnish news—a language neither of them understands. Nevertheless, slightly tipsy from the drinks and the effects of bug repellent, they do their best to repeat what they hear, which only adds to their confusion but provides plenty of laughter. Tom remarks, ‘Now I understand why only 5 million people worldwide speak this unusual language.’ However, Jerry does not respond to this intellectual comment.

Instead of trying to decipher the sounds coming from the radio, Tom has his camera ready to capture Jerry’s unexpected yet inevitable fall from the jetty. However, he might have to wait for it to happen, as dinner time is approaching and they both feel a bit peckish. They are preparing for a beautiful evening sunset, but are quickly brought back to reality by the loud noise from the neighbour’s grass trimmer. The sound pierces the inlet like a menacing dentist’s drill and is soon joined by one of the most pointless inventions: the jet ski. To calm their nerves, they quickly each down a couple of gin and tonics. In high spirits but lacking common sense, they decide to launch a counter-attack by blasting Finnish news at the highest volume across the lake. As a consequence, animals in the area, such as birds, moose, bears, and even fish, quickly change direction and disappear. They must promptly reassess their strategies as the radio speaker crackles, making the noise resemble someone rubbing sandpaper. As a result, they adapt once again. “Perkele! Saatana!” Jerry exclaims loudly, which is the only curse word in Finnish that he knows. Why he chose Finnish instead of the more appropriate Swedish is something Tom cannot understand.

Since the powerful radio noise they had attempted to create was no longer effective, they decided to change their approach and harness the power of smell. They ignited the grill, lit their cigars, and waved their blankets over the fire to produce more unpleasant smoke. This combination, along with the odours from the bug repellent, effectively drove away unwanted jet skis and grass trimmers alike.

It is now quieter, except for a transistor radio playing a muted and gravelly-voiced Kate Bush. They proudly raise the Union Jack they brought with them, asserting their superiority and victory over what they consider to be lesser beings. Everything has returned to its proper order, and Tom is now reluctantly putting down his camera to reach for a glass of something instead.

‘Skål!’ exclaimed Tom, as he celebrated their victory.

‘Kippis vaan!’ responded Jerry, still in Finnish mode.

After some time spent in quiet contemplation, Jerry changes the subject. ‘So, you know about the concept of DIY?’

‘Yes, I think I do,’ Tom replies. ‘It’s short for “Do-It-Yourself.” How much did I win?

‘No price this week. But you are a clever boy! Did you go to Trinity?’

‘I’m just a natural.’

‘Good for you. Then you shouldn’t have any trouble following this. My client, whose house we’re currently using and who is quite familiar with everything Sweden, shared this story with me. At birth, the concept of DIY is instilled in every Swedish boy, and perhaps also in girls and, of course, gender-neutral individuals as well.’

‘Sounds like fun.’

‘They are told that this is an obligatory task that cannot be ignored. Around Easter, everyone puts on their tool belt and gets to work, pondering, pounding, and painting. However, what most people don’t know or choose to ignore is that this secret program is, in fact, a scheme created by the Tax Authority.’

‘Are you pulling my leg, or is it just the conspiracy theorist in you talking?’

‘No, it’s true. The scheme is designed to ensure that at least half of the population in Sweden is occupied with some form of DIY activity on a daily basis. Ignoring these DIY duties is punishable by law, and even the slightest indication of disregard for the rules will have government agents knocking on your door.’

‘Is this equivalent to the brainwashing seen in North Korea?’

‘No. I mean, yes. The Tax Authority and commercial enterprises, like major DIY retailers, operate together in a secretive, Freemason-style manner to ensure they make a lot of money.’

‘This sounds crazier by the minute.’

‘Yes, and he made me promise never to reveal the secret to anyone, which I will now honour by not telling you.’

‘I appreciate that. Can you pass me a bottle?’

Jerry sits up and reaches for a cold beer. ‘He noted that his neighbour, Mr. Anderson, only visits his weekend house when it rains. However, when he does visit, he immediately pulls out his leaf blower or rides his sit-on lawn mower.’

‘I’ve always wanted a leaf blower,’ says Tom.

‘What for? You don’t have a place to use it, do you?’

‘I just want to be a Ghostbuster, even if it’s just once in my life. That would be a perfect prop.’

Jerry shakes his head and replies, ‘Let’s just pretend I didn’t hear that. Now, back to the story. This is a great example of how effective this brainwashing scheme has been. The neighbour serves as the perfect barometer: as soon as he finishes building the extension, cutting down trees, and using that ultra-high-pitched weed eater, he jumps back into his car and heads back to his home in the city. And just like that, the clouds disappear and the sun begins to shine again.’

‘What a loser.’

‘Possibly. But listen to this: nowadays, my client simply needs to lean out of the window to see if the neighbour’s car is still in the driveway to predict the weather for the near future.”

‘I still have a hard time believing this story,’ Tom mumbles.

‘You can sit there and mumble all you want, but this is a true story. Shall I continue?’

‘I suppose there’s no off-switch?’

‘This neighbour, fully aware of the Tax Authority drones monitoring his behaviour, is constantly looking for ways to outsmart them.’

‘That would certainly be at the top of my priorities as well.’

‘One day, he left all his tools scattered around, fully visible but without a trace of himself. He hoped the drone would think it was just a temporary break, perhaps a quick trip to the loo. Instead, he drove to a large bookstore, where he found and purchased a book on how to relax and avoid doing DIY work. This book had been blacklisted by the government and removed from public circulation. However, one copy had surprisingly been overlooked by a careless staff member, and Mr. Andersson, the neighbour, discovered it hidden behind other books. Sensing this was too good to be true, he "borrowed" a cover from another book of the same format and went to pay for it.’

‘I need a big book right now to throw at you if you don’t hurry up and finish this story,’ Tom says.

‘Very good, I’ll wrap this up.’ Later, Mr. Andersson sensed—rather than saw—that a tax authority drone was hovering above him in the parking lot, monitoring his every move. He hurried back to his car, carefully concealing the newly acquired book under his jacket.

‘I also want a drone,’ Tom interjected, reaching for another beer.’

‘Anyway, now we arrive at the spooky part. My client continues by explaining that after returning from this hazardous adventure, his neighbour turned away from the stack of planks and pretended not to notice a little figure dressed in black, squatting in the tree. This person was, of course, a spy from the Tax Authority sent to address the situation in person urgently.’

‘Those little devils.’

‘No one has seen the neighbour since! He disappeared like a character from a Stephen King novel. No one knows where he has gone! And that’s where the story ends. What do you think? Isn’t that an amazing story?’

‘Are you going to finish the last beer, or can I have it?’