Nordic Noir Night Before Christmas

To everyone who reads our blog, members of the Facebook group and followers on Twitter, thank you for your input, friendly words and your opinions. We hope 2014 is full of interesting Nordic Noir events and you continue to enjoy sharing this with us.
The Nordic Noir Team
(Miriam, Christine, Sheila and Douglas)

‘Twas the Night Before Christmas – Nordic Noir Style!

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the station
Not a copper was working, no signs of creation;
The torches were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that the baddies soon wouldn’t be there;

The villains were nestled all snug in their cells,
While visions of evilness danced in their heads;
And Lund in her jumper, and Saga in leather,
Had just settled down for a long winter’s blether,

When out at the car park there arose such a clatter,
They sprang from their chairs (beautifully designed) to see what was the matter.
Away to the window they flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to our wondering eyes should appear,
But the cast of Borgen, and Arne Dahl dear,

With Sidse Babette, so lively and quick,
We knew in a moment we’d have to be slick.
More rapid than cop cars the support cast they came,
And she whistled, and shouted, and called them by name; “Now, NYBORG! now, KERSTIN! now, AARTO and VIGGO!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the station-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of stories, and lots of booze too.
And then, in a twinkling, we heard on the roof
The prancing and and dancing of one ripe to schmooze.
As we drew in our hands, and were turning around,
Down the chimney Pilou Asbæck came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of DVDs he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes — how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard on his chin was just right for the show;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly
He was chubby not plump, a right good looking elf,
And we laughed when we saw him, in spite of ourselves;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
He had us believe we might go to bed!

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
He eyed up our outfits; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

(original by either Major Henry Livingston Jr.
or Clement Clarke Moore, but on this occasion adapted by MVO for Nordic Noir!)

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