Strange things arriving in the post

Yesterday I was telephoned by the ever-efficient, ever-helpful Benson, Guardian of the Mansion in which I reside, to be informed that there was a parcel from Sweden waiting for me.  I could hardly wait to get home and find out what it could be.  More Pepparkakor?  More frankly painful licquorice-based throat pastilles?  A big bag of Plopp?