We are greeted by barking dogs

The cabin was surrounded by all manner of strange artefacts: flags, Arctic hieroglyphics, old drums and reindeer hides, rusty axes, saws, a huge pile of timber. The roof of the cabin was decorated with carved animal skulls and bone sculptures. Thick black smoke curled greasily from the iron chimney. The wind and snow had ceased completely, and when we cut the ice bikes’ engines a supernatural silence descended. I looked at the night sky. I could hear the North Star – it sounded like Chinese wind chimes. The aurora borealis threw gentle swathes of colour against the Prussian blue infinity. I thought I was at the most desolate and most beautiful place on earth. The air smelled thousands of years old. Peace and tranquillity. Egil’s reindeer-skin boots squeaked in the tight snow as he walked to the cabin door. We followed him in to his brother’s home.

We are greeted by barking dogs and what can only be described as a seriously inbred Lapp leprechaun.

The little smiling guy gave me a high five and asked me if I dug Metallica. I was dumbstruck.

Bad Wisdom - Bill Drummond & Mark Manning