“Have you seen that Swedish series ‘Clark’ on Netflix?” asked my Icelandic friend.
“Not a frame,” I said, “and I do not think you should either. It is remarkably substandard. “
How could I be so prejudiced against a new Swedish production, duly funded by Harry Schein at the Film Institute and with one of the 37 now active Skarsgårdarna in the lead role? Well, because the director, Jonas Åkerlund, is the first chapter in my ever-coming book “Celebrities who beat me”.
Åkerlund inhabited min childhood suburb and was part of a hard rock gang whose galleon figures were named Gusten and Gulpan – yes you hear, it will not be more frightening than that, at least not in Bromma around 1984.
I myself was a synthesizer. At the time, it was a cause of war with a legitimacy Vladimir Putin can only dream of. When my friend Mats and I passed Åkerlund’s crew at twelve o’clock on a Friday night, they had no choice but to give us some obligatory bangs and one or another kick and push us into a picturesque, nearby hedge.
In the name of honesty, I do not even know if Åkerlund personally was one of those who ran after and caught up with us. It may have been him, Gusten or Gulpan, together or in a deadly combination. At least slightly bruising.
It was all like one predetermined act where we closely followed our roles. None of us had a direct desire to participate, but we were there, it was late, what else would we do? If I had instead gone home to Jonas Åkerlund and drank tea, we would probably have had sex, with exactly the same conditions and lack of enthusiasm.
I have long since forgiven Åkerlund, but recommend his sucky series to Icelanders? That’s where my line goes.
Chapter 2 of my book is about the artist and filmmaker Peter Greenaway. Apparently there is something about me that provokes directors. At the moment I do not have more chapters than that, but you know where I am. Norms and people over 1.60 do not bother.
Read more kåserier by Helmerson, for example about Oddjob’s famous plum stop, which is not really a plum stop.