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Thor, Norse God of thunder was pacing the floor of the 540 rooms of his great hall Bilskirnir. He had a quarrel with his wife Sif and hadn't had any for about three centuries.
"Enough!" shouted Thor, Norse God of thunder, stamping the ground with his mighty feet, "I must vent my heroic passions or by the jaws of Jörmungandr I shall explode!".
He stormed off to Gladsheim to discuss the matter with Odin, the father of the Gods.
"Father!" bellowed Thor, Norse God of thunder, "it is not fitting that I Thor, Norse God of thunder should wait until Ragnarök's dawn before getting my heroic end away. Send heralds to the Einherjar so that a willful Valkyrie could get a good seeing to from me."
Odin and his twelve Diar pondered this for a while and pronounced "It is forbidden for you Thor, Norse God of thunder to have your way with any woman of Asgard save for your wife Sif. However you may lay with a mortal woman, to do this you must become mortal for a single night and then after, you will once again be Thor, Norse god of thunder and never again take mortal form, so make the most of it son".
"One night of passion is better than an eternity of heroic frustration" said Thor, Norse God of thunder, "Let it be done!"
And with a wave of Gungnir, Odin's magical spear, Thor the Norse God of thunder was on the streets of Glasgow and a mortal man for the night.
Things had changed in the world of men, puny huts of wood and straw had given way to towers of iron and ice.
They were lit by forks of lightning as bright as any he could spark with his mighty hammer Mjöllnir and instead of the simple ale of yesteryear men downed brews of such intoxication and strength that the tricks of the mind they enchanted as the evening progressed would have given Loki a run for his money.
But the women were another matter.
Some were as frightful as Hel herself.
Thor, the now mortal, staggered from drinking hall to drinking hall, his eyes never resting on a comely wench worthy of his heroic enterprise.
Until suddenly, sipping a bottle of Buckfast and sitting in a bus shelter he spotted a radiant jewel of a woman.
Her hair was as gold as wheat fields, her skin was as flawless as a sheet of freshly fallen snow and as radiant as the sun, she was as shapely as Greenland and as fragrant as summer flowers.
"I must have her this night!" declared Thor, the erstwhile Norse God of Thunder.
"What is your name sweet lady so I may remember you until the end of the world!" he bellowed.
"Awrite ye a thcuttle beetht, Mah nam ith Thamantha an' theth is yer lucky nicht."
Thor, Norse God of thunder was horrified for though she looked like a goddess she spoke like a snake and spittle sprayed forth from her mouth with every perplexing word.
"Oh well" he thought "this is my last chance, take me to your bed Samantha so I might plot my course up your Fjords"
"Alrecht ye sweit talkin' thucker Yoor'e oan", said she.
So they went back to her place and all through the night they engaged in such acts as I dare not mention.
Over and over in such a manner that would shock the Swedish, until eventually they both had to rest from their labours.
When the sun broke over the hills Thor was once again the Norse god of thunder, no longer a man but filled with guilt for this poor maid of Glasgow.
Samantha was in her bath chamber and while she was there he pondered how to tell her there could be no future between them and no doubt for the rest of her days she would weep epic tears for the her fleeting night with him.
There was nothing more to it.
He must speak the truth however hurtful it may be.
"Samantha!" he called out, "I AM THOR!"
The voice from around the corner shouted back, "Yoo're Thor? Ah cannae e'en pith!"
