Thousand years of Duuuuuuuuuuuude Den

Summary: Everyone's heard of Prussia's diary, but not many people have read the diary and thoughts of the King of Northern Europe. Go back in history with the cheeriest Nordic...dude. Will contain sexual situations, swearing, and the usual cast.

There may be some history, but don't expect it to be very accurate.

Reviews/PMs/comments welcome as usual.

Chapter 1 – Women problems

Sometime in the 10th Century

I've had loads of girlfriends. They can't resist me and my hair and when they see the size of my axe, well they just fall into my bed.

Because of this, I've had loads of kids. Well, I didn't actually have them – I'm a manly man and I've got a horned helmet to prove it. What I mean is I didn't give birth to them- that would be messy. They were all dudes, all called Sven, Carl, Olaf or Gordon and they're all massive top dudes.

Well, one day this chieftain's daughter called Mathilda beat me up. I never hit maidens back, it's not cool, and she was bigger than me – around the waist.

"You got me pregnant with child!" she yelled at me right there in the middle of the tavern.

Of course she was pregnant with child, what else would she be pregnant with?

I asked her this as she chased me around the table swinging my own axe at my head – how did she know it was me?

She said cos I'd yelled 'Copenhagen' at the moment and then drank all her dad's mead and then sodded off.

Probably was me then.

This was my first visit to Oslo in erm... oh yeah, seven months.

Top stuff, dude... Another little dude who could be another big Viking dude. I'll call this one Hans for a change.

Two months later

I couldn't call it Hans, little dude was shoved into my arms with blond hair and blue eyes wasn't no dude. When I peeked inside cos I couldn't believe Mathilda after she'd whacked me around the head and I saw it didn't have dude parts. It was a dude chick.

Still, I'll teach her to wash my undercrackers, de-lice my hair and run my baths when she's bigger. I'm all for equal rights, ja?

Mathilda kicked my arse until I said 'yes' in a wedding ceremony. I ain't never been married before but said she could be Queen if she stopped hitting me. I suppose it could be a good deal – she can mend my clothes while I'm away pillaging and ravishing in England.

It's a bum deal being a married Viking. I have to be home for tea every day so invasions of England have to be short.

Arthur wet his pants laughing when I stopped pillaging my way through Northumberland and I said I had to get back on the longboat or the wife would be beat me up.

The kid's growing up and she is the manliest of all my sons. Norge suggested she should be a territory or region or something. I love her to bits, diary, but she's hard like her mom and tells me to go forth and multiply with a longboat when I tell her a woman's place is by the hearth.

As I keep getting teased by my men about being married, on the next trip to Northern England I kidnapped a dozen maidens and brought them back with me. Ha! That'll shut my men up.

English women? What possessed me? They do nothing but moan about the weather, laugh at my men – I personally think braids look manly – and drink tea. I think Arthur might have planned this somehow.

Even our Viking ravishing does not subdue them. Many of the men are close to exhaustion and say the women are tiring them out. I doubt these women have ever been 'maidens'.

No invasions for a while. My men are all either too tired, love-struck or hen-pecked. Big Sven who is six foot six inches tall, built like a mountain and has killed many a warrior, is now a shadow of his former self. His once-manly braids have daisies in them and he is most likely to be seen giving his woman a foot rub.

How did my might army, who had invaded and taken Jorvik, come to this?

It's always nice to see Norgy, although he smacks me around the head and calls me 'fool' for calling him that.

We go back a looooong way. I tried to explain this to Mathilda but she said 'gay' and practically threw our ale at us.

I showed him around the camp.

"You've let them go soft, Den," Norge said as one Olaf went past with his youngest half-Viking, half-English kid sat on his shoulders.

I could not deny this, especially when I saw Sven III or IV (I get them mixed up) sat outside his tent doing embroidery.

Worst thing was Norge had brought his little kid of a brother, Icy, along with him. He kept laughing and pulling faces. I slammed the kid's helmet down on his head – it's way too big for him – so he couldn't see.

"Your daughter..." Norge started to say when he saw the girl sparring with a heavy broadsword.

"I ain't got no... oh yeah..." I forgot chick was a chick. She was practising her sword-fighting skills with Olaf VI and even though she was a foot and a half shorter, she disarmed him and had her boot on his neck.

Norge then said, "I suggest you give her that great big island of yours."

"Yer mean Whiteland?"

Norge nodded. He doesn't say much but when he does, he's usually right.

"I was gonna send her to Sweden. She'll make mincemeat of him and then send her on to that big cold dude Rus somebody." I told him. I thought it was a cool plan.

Norge shook his head.

Anyway, we spent the rest of the night drinking a lot of ale and trying to get that helmet off that Icy kid's head. Goosefat worked in the end.

So I sent Mathilda, the chick kid and a load of my men and their English women and kids off to what they laughingly called 'Greenland'. Ha!

They were in for a shock.

A century later, Greenland - my darling dude chick daughter, turned up and kicked my arse for sending her there. Result!