Quiet Is the New Loud Puns

People ask me sometimes, they say ( because they are wise to seek my counsel on this matter), "how is it that Norsemen came to be known as "Norwegians"?"

You see, back in days of Yore, when Norsemen first got it in their heads that the Brits and the Picts were a puny lot, ripe for the harvest so to speak, they first scouted the area by pretending to be tourists. They found themselves a nice sidewalk cafe operated by a couple limey weasels, and set their boots heavily on the outdoor table and ordered up a corned beast suitable to their needs. And ale. They needed some ale. You can't smash a horn down and demand "more ale, wench!" In a loud, commanding voice if you haven't had any in the first place.

The waitress was a slip of a lass, dark-complected, demure and quiet to match her appearance. She stammered out that, being a Green Initiative business, Ale was not only unavailable but philosophically out of place. But they had some lovely tea with a hint of lavender...

Thorrfin Skullsplitter leaned forward at this news, and bellowed, "we are not teetotalers!", pounding his fist on the iron-lace table.

Lenny Mcgreasel, one of the cafe's two owners, heard the commotion and injected his condescending, servile whine to the conversation, "is there anything we can bring the large gentlemen from our menu?", gesticulating to the hand-crafted hemp/flaxseed menu depicting what could only be described as a garden, rather than a list of things to eat.

Thorrfin's mate, Snorri Log-Bender, immediately ordered, as if he'd been thinking about this moment for some time, "what I'd like is to have some bacon salad"

Thorrfin was still muttering in his beard over not being a teetotaler. " I'm sorry sir, we only serve as food that which has grown fresh from the garden"' the waitress chirped. That was the last straw. With a shove of his boot, and a full dose of disgust, the table flew backwards.

"C'mon, Snorri", he said in disgust, and he stood, once again emoting, "we are not teetotalers"

Just then another small-faced waitress popped around the corner carrying tofu laced with kale and and whole-grain brown rice. Snorri saw his chance, and with a face of disgust he emoted,

"Nor Vegans"

And with that they bid their their host a hostile farewell, only to return two weekends later with a fully armed force of Vikings,- and established what would become the preeminent fast food of a millennia, fish and chips, served only with the darkest stout.

To hear the Engl