Scan Magazine | Humour | Columns
IS IT JUST ME…
By Mette Lisby
… who feels that there is no end to our ability to overcomplicate basic, simple tasks? Like this year, I got an electrical toothbrush for Christmas – my first. I was excited! This only shows you what becoming an adult does to you: you get excited about gifts recommended by your dentist. Yes, people – this is who I have become! My husband was happy to see I liked the fancy toothbrush. He had gone all out and got me the newest one on the market. When it was time to use it, I switched on my new toothbrush – but of course, this is not just a toothbrush you simply switch on and use; it comes with a manual. So there I was, feeling a little sophisticated reading a manual for a toothbrush and eager to start my healthy new routine. However, first I had to register my product with the manufacturer for ‘extended warranty’. This of course translates to ‘we want more data on you so we can make more money off you’, but since it is disguised as concern for the customer, my husband insisted.
After a brief, 32-minute online encounter, I was registered! My fingers hovered over the ‘on’ switch, keen to get started with the actual brushing of teeth, but we were only on page two of the manual. The next step was to sign up for the app. Yes, the toothbrush has an app. The app evaluates your tooth-brushing efforts and lets you know where you slacked off and what you can improve. It is not like you can be trusted to feel anything yourself. Of course, in signing up for the app, I had to fill out lengthy forms about my ‘goals’ for using my toothbrush. I thought clean teeth was quite a no-brainer, but there were options: gum control, whiter teeth, fresher breath. I made it through the swift 25 minutes of signing up through the app. Now I just need my phone with me every time I brush my teeth. I need to sign in and tell the app about my dental hygiene ‘goals’, and the app asks questions on my routine, whether
Do something Swedish “What did you do today? Did you go skiing? Did you go ice-fishing? Did you at least see the northern lights?” These questions are shouted down the phoneline by my husband, during my recent visit to see my sister in Sweden. I stare at my sister, where she is sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, reading. I am opposite, doing the same. Husband is disappointed. I try to explain that I am not really a tourist when I go back to Sweden. Skiing and ice-fishing used to be part of the school curriculum after all. But as we hang up, I wonder whether he is right. Maybe we should do something. Something Swedish. My sister lives relatively close to where we grew up, a city I have not visited since my teens. “How about we drive to Sundsvall tomorrow…?” I ask, and my sister happily agrees, seeing as they have an IKEA and she needs a lamp. Being back in Sundsvall is weird. It feels bizarre to hear people speaking in my old
I rinsed, scraped and flossed. Yes, brushing my teeth comes with a daily questionnaire. So apparently brushing your teeth is far too simple a task in our day and age – you now need to be quizzed endlessly on it too. Mette Lisby is Denmark’s leading female comedian. She invites you to laugh along with her monthly humour columns. Since her stand-up debut in 1992, Mette has hosted the Danish version of Have I Got News For You and Room 101.
By Maria Smedstad
I am delighted. Husband will not be impressed with sushi and IKEA, but the northern lights should at least tick one box. This is until we realise that the glow comes from a particularly luminous, suburban Coop shop sign. The following day, we stick to tea and books, having decided that this is a level of Swedishness that we are both perfectly happy with.
accent, using vowels I had almost forgotten existed. We stop at a sushi restaurant to acclimatise ourselves, then drive to the bay where we used to live and stare melancholically at the sea for a bit. It is almost a relief to reach IKEA with its universally recognisable maze of meatball-scented showrooms. On the way home, an eerie, green glow illuminates the sky ahead.
Maria Smedstad moved to the UK from Sweden in 1994. She received a degree in Illustration in 2001, before settling in the capital as a freelance cartoonist, creating the autobiographical cartoon Em. Maria writes a column on the trials and tribulations of life as a Swede in the UK.
Issue 121 | February 2019 | 111