Old Sweat said:
You needed it to stomach their rations, which made Lung in a Bag seem like a gourmet's delight. The whale hamburger tasted as bad as it sounds.
Ah! FISKEPUDDING!!!
Roughly five-inch-square slabs of glistening-white gelatinous... stuff. I had never seen whale blubber before, but that was all that I could think of.
I was sitting with some guys from 337 Squadron on my second visit, in September 1983, some of whom I knew from earlier in the year.
With great suspicion and trepidation, I lopped a small corner off with my knife, which met no resistance. I put it in my mouth. No flavour whatsoever. I spludged it between my tongue and the roof of my mouth.
"What is this?" I asked.
"[Norwegian accent] Fiskepudding [/Norwegian accent]" (fish pudding), they all said.
"How do they make it?" I asked. My real question was "why do they make it?", but I did not want to cause offence by insulting a national delicacy. But why take a perfectly good fish and turn it into that?
"[Norwegian accent] The cooks run over it in their cars on their way to work in the morning [/Norwegian accent]."
"So you don't like it either."
"[Norwegian accent] Oh, no. We hate it [Norwegian accent]."
"Then why do you eat it?"
"[Norwegian accent] It's all there is [Norwegian accent]"
I skipped lunch the next day, because lunch was usually the previous dinner's leftovers, but fried, which at least gave it some flavour.
Old Sweat said:
On the other hand, I think they deported all their ugly women.
I think that they've been bred out.