Vem i helvete får inte ont i hjärtat?
AN OPEN LETTER TO BRITNEY SPEARS
From recent media coverage I can see you're not feeling very well. And believe me - I've been there too!
Every time I find myself crying on the curb, all partied out in a stupid hat, I go visit my mom in norrland. Now, I've decided to invite you there!
I think it would do you good. We'd go for walks in åsen. Mom would make us fläskpannkaka with lingonsylt and then we'd chill with På spåret on the bonnteve (which means it's got only ettan, tvåan and fyran - hence no MTV gossip about you!). Life is easy there. There's not much knark (as far as I know). And the only way to get drunk is to go to Pizzan and drink storstark with Göken and Lillis.
There is no paparazzifotografer there either. At least have I never seen any.
In the evening we could make a fire in the kakelugn and have bryggcoffee with mom's homemade mandelbiskvier and just softa. Maybe watch some of my old VHS tapes from the box in the basement. If, by chance, you already saw Gore-Met: Zombie chef from Hell I could probably find the tape with Träsmak (woodtaste) with Galenskaparna & After Shave.
I wouldn't charge you anything for the stay, of course. Neither would mom. Hell, chance is you'd even find a hundring sneaked into your jackficka on your way home, even though you make more money than she does from her pension. That's mom for ya!
Do take me up on this offer, Britney. Anytime!