The god of flat pack meatballs.
Noun. The Swedish god of flat pack furniture.
Or, as urban dictionary put it:

Ikea – Swedish for “see if you can put this shit together”

Ikea isn’t new to me, but being brave enough to enter it’s doors without a map, and a bag of breadcrumbs, is. Having spent what felt like an eternity trapped in the showroom and then the market area on my first visit many years ago, I’ve often feared treading those halls again. At times I’m sure I could feel my beard growing, and my shadow screaming and so I promised never to return.

The problem is, Ikea sell some great stuff, and at reasonable prices too.

So, it was with mixed feelings, then that I ventured out under cover of darkness (ok, it’s July – under cover of evening sun) for my 3rd visit in just 2 weeks.

I was cocky. Too cocky. I thought I had this all sown up. I thought I had the house beat.
No one beats the house of ikea.

The house always wins.

My over eagerness to show off some ideas to my co-adventurer (hello, mum) was at first met with gleeful nods, and “ooh yes”‘s. As room after room filled my head with “what-ifs” and “perhaps we could…”s I suddenly became aware of what was happening.

I was becoming The narrator.

Everything looked like it would go I’m my house. Everything. All of it. Just fill my house with as much flat pack crap as you can! Doooo Eeeetttt!

The mental struggle from choosing between a Fusion dining set or a Bjursta table and 2, 3 or maybe 4 chairs was getting too much. We had to take a break.

The break led us to the “restaurant”. I’d heard many things about ikea’s food and in particular, the Swedish meatballs. “Amazing”, “delicious”, “omg you have to try the meatballs!” and other words I’ve probably heard all pushing me, a trier of foods, to give the food here a go.

Below we have exhibit A and exhibit B. Exhibit A shows a plate of 15 Swedish meatballs covered in slop, served with limp fries and a compot (jam). Exhibit B shows fish and chips (breaded tough white thing and limp fries).

Now perhaps my expectations for this food was a little high. It’s possible that with all the hoopla surrounding these amazing meaty “pop’em in ya mouth” balls of win I’d lost sight of the fact that we were indeed, eating in a shop that sold sofas and lampshades.

However, that said I’d like to make this statement:
Ikea food is nothing more than low grade McDonalds with meatballs in place of patties.

I hope I’ve not upset too many of you meatball lovers with this shocking truth, and I’m sure you’ll be pleased to know that whilst I won’t be rushing back for more meaty balls (or indeed an AWESOME HOTDOG) I did hand over a months wage, having been trapped again for over 3 hours and left with 3 trolleys worth of stuff I have no idea how to put together.

Pass me a screwdriver.
No, the other one.
No, the one with orange in.


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