There are few things more depressing than watching a Simon Reeve documentary with the dawning realisation that your country has been run like a car boot sale by people who think “long-term strategy” means making it to Friday without a scandal. His recent journey through Norway was one of those eye-popping, blood-boiling spectacles that leaves you shouting at the telly, then Googling ‘Norway Wealth’ just to confirm he’s not lying.

A Trillion Reasons to Weep

There, in all its pine-scented smugness, is Norway: a country that struck oil and, instead of torching it like a lottery winner buying Bentleys for his mates, did something outrageous—they saved the money. Imagine that. Billions. Billions upon billions. Tucked away neatly into a Sovereign Wealth Fund, which now bulges at the seams with over £1.4 trillion and climbing by the day like an oligarchs Harrods bill.

The UK: Always the Bridesmaid, Never the Wealth Fund

While they were building this enormous financial safety net, what were we doing? Oh, just flogging off our North Sea oil like Del Boy at a dodgy market stall. “Lovely stuff, gov. Two barrels for a fiver. Say ‘ello to the missus wontcha.”

Instead of investing for the future, our governments—of every shade and slogan—effectively handed over the keys to our national treasure to oil companies, took a few crumbs in tax, then acted surprised when the crumbs ran out. We had the same oil, the same opportunities, and we turned it into… well, potholes, underfunded hospitals, and 24-hour A&E waiting rooms that look ripe for a Wetherspoons conversion.

Meanwhile, in Utopia

Norway is funding gold-plated public services, renewable energy infrastructure, and a dignified twilight for pensioners. Their schools are gleaming. Their elderly don’t need to sell their homes to die in dignity. Their economy is stable. Their politicians, bizarrely, seem to possess basic numeracy and a conscience. Must be something in the fjords.

Of course, all of this makes watching the documentary feel like a particularly bleak episode of Bullseye. “C’mon then Barry, remember, the 3 year waiting time for your new hip, that’s safe. 101 needed, take your time Barry, take your time. That’s one…that’s five…that’s five again…oh Barry…come on son, let’s have a look at what you could have won…oh Barry, it’s a pension you can live off”.

”Oh well, we’ve had a lovely day Jim, and Thatcher let us buy our council house, so we’ll vote Tory until we’re dead.”

The Green Halo… with a Greasy Underside

Because nothing’s ever that simple—there is a little bit of hypocrisy at the end. Norway, for all its green credentials and eco-virtue signalling, continues to pump oil like there’s no tomorrow… just not for them. No, their pristine forests and salmon streams remain unsullied while the dirty stuff is exported abroad. “Let someone else burn it,” they say, presumably while sipping ethical coffee in solar-powered hot tubs. It’s a bit like selling Special Brew outside an AA meeting: Technically possible, morally comical.

Still, it’s a luxury of contradiction they can afford—unlike us, scrabbling together budgets for school glue sticks and sticking a fiver in a GoFund campaign so the local GP surgery can print off a prescription for anti-depressants given to those poor sods selling their house to get beaten up in a piss stained care home.

We Had Oil. They Had a Plan.

We had the same starting line. Same oil. Same planet. The difference? Norway played the long game. We sold ours off to the highest bidder, patted ourselves on the back for being “business friendly,” and now can’t even afford the ambulance that eventually turns up at our funeral.

So yes—thanks for the reminder, Simon. It was enlightening, inspiring, and fucking infuriating.