AFL – (Australian Football League) – ‘Aussie Rules’ – This bizarre ill-mannered game – bastard child of despicable unwashed lower-class rabble leisure activity using time theived from workhouse overlords – in its modern form comprises a circus-grotesque of rather large blokes in tiny short-shorts, and comically garbed goal umpires resembling well-dressed paedophiles who do, yes they actually do, respond to the crowd’s taunt “how long is yer dick, ref?” by indicating extent with two forefingers. AFL rulesets are derived from schoolyard brawls, wherein children fight for possession of some spherical or oblong item in a free-for-all constrainconstrained by said schoolyard (law of the jungle) and whichever unfortunate fool gets a-hold of it is attacked by the dispossessed (some say “possessed”) mob.
Crueller folk suggest the essential and overriding characteristic of the game is that no one ever gets to hold the ball because butter-fingered muscle-bound fools have no opposing thumbs and run around this huge paddock kicking at the ball and clawing at one another’s faces and, as often as not, one another’s balls, plural.
Only if that makes no sense does it explain why Victorians love AFL.
Australia – You’re Standing in It. Aks Ostrillia, Oztralya, Straya.. you get the idea.
Biggest rock – Whitey grew up calling it Ayers Rock after a very sunburnt whitey William Goss stubbed his toe on it in 1873 and yelped “Curse you, Ayers, you’ve rocks in yer head” in reference to Henry Ayers, South Australia’s Chief Secretary, who had skimped on the expedition’s steel-capped boots and sunblock.
Anyhows, one day in recent Aussie history, Ayers Rock (apparently literally) disappeared, leaving thousands of gray nomads (pensioners) in camper vans (RVs) circling in the desert in confusion. Eventually a black tracker set them straight (indigenous folk are very good at directions) pointing to the newly erected signs indicating “Uluru.”
Big horse race – aka Melbourne Cup – You’ve probably heard of it, just like you’ve heard of the Kentucky Derby or some Grand Steeple Chase owned by the Queen of England. Those of us who both live in Oztralya AND are not interested in horse racing .. well, quite frankly we wish we hadn’t heard of this irrelevancy.
The entire nation, in a frenzy of misplaced excitement, has decided to adopt this meaningless event as the greatest day of the year – since Christ’s birth and resurrection are still frowned on as days to get totally pissed on (Disambiguation: Aussie pissed = drunk; US pissed = Aussie “pissed off”). With painfully strained festivity simply everyone stops work to watch what is simply the most boring concept imaginable – a few dozen over-pampered nags bolt anti-clockwise for three minutes ridden by an eclectic collection of garishly dressed smallish people.
Sigh. To cap a disastrously wasted day, those who impolitely deign to expect news that night instead find bulletins comprising 97.5% horse shit – even the bloody weather – comprising slow-motion reruns from 279 camera angles, including Hubble and the space station.
Blokes – Oztraylian men, who have scientifically measured “mateship” greater than any other of the species homo erectus. A mateship bordering on the most sinister and convoluted strain of homosexuality known to that same science, surpassing even the foul relationship between Roman centurions and their horses, a deviance bordering on homophobically homicidal.
And remember, I’m referring to “Australian Mateship” which rears its head (so to speak) in army barracks, football teams, schoolyards and street gangs – and has nothing to do with perfectly normal gays.
Bondi lifesavers – Now THAT’S an icon. Guys and gals in funny little caps and increasingly (as decades transpire) chic swimsuits who are, literally, saints of the sandy beaches of this overly large island. Originally from Bondi Beach in Sydney the religion swept around the coasts of Australia and now even back yard paddle pools sport them.
Dancing queens – A virile form of homosexual, usually male, who dances away the night in pantomime re-enactment of the fabled “ass-cracker suite,” the story of a young gay prince who spent a night of agony searching for a 24-hour pharmacist (drug store) who might stock Anusol or an equivalent. The annual re-enactment now a feature of the City of Sydney’s gay community Mardi Gras. The definitive cinematographic portrayal being our love Priscilla.
Death toll from a sailing race – Obscure reference to a particular Sydney to Hobart yacht race that had – as the nightly TV newstainment so reliably label almost anything gone pear shaped – “gone horribly wrong.”
Down Under – Australians think this fondly describes them as South Hemisphericans, but the rest of you know it’s a slight.
Festival of foreigners – Foreigners, that’s probably you! Now there’s something you should understand, even if Australians don’t. See Adelaide Festival
Footy – No, not soccer. Down Under it refers to non-spherical football. Typically, male sublimated psychosexual competitive activities involving a pigs bladder with much chasing, consequent damage, often collateral quadriplegia. Done in stiflingly-lethal heat of summer. A strange male-bonding variant of little entertainment value and less skill.
Importing convicts – Don’t get me started.
Maps (of the State) of Tasmania) – This is the nation’s longest running joke. Tasmania is shaped like the female mons veneris (or the male mons pubis, if you remove that hilarious appendage) and in adults is delineated by the hairline of the great forests of pubic follicles. For Australians of Middle Eastern appearance, the female anatomy in this region more likely resembles the familiar camel toe. Thus, for all Aussies, visualizing Tasmania invokes hysteria. Taswegians are congentally blind to this.
Mate – another bloke. As in “gidday mate” or “how’s it goin’ mate orrite?”Meat pie – A peculularly appetising and beloved yet disgusting form of pre-fabricated food affectionately known (and by no means inaccurately) as “maggot bags.” And Australia has absolutely the shittiest pies in the known Universe.
Melbourne Cup – see Big Horse Race
Northern Territory – It’s north, it ain’t a state, it’s a “territory” (a state with insufficient people to form a quorum) – and it sucks if you’re hoping for a white Christmas. Wiki Northern Territory. NT is not the only ‘Territory’ actually. We have lots of ‘territories’ because you never know when you might want to knock up the odd immigrant detention center in some out-of-the-way place.
Political party, albeit a redneck gun-toting one – Asked if she was xenophobic, Ms Pauline Hansen of Australia’s One Nation political party replied “Please explain.” Which no-one has been able to, any more than they can the Sydney race riots of December 2005. And the two are NOT UNRELATED. Deriding called “One Notion” All other political parties in Australia are neoconservative, inluding the once great “Labor” party. The Greens were once a political pary but are now opportunists.
The practice of spotlighting kangaroos is [not only] .. cruel and barbaric, but .. serves .. as a male bonding ritual. This social function is now less an insulated one .. inseparable from the spectacle of urban Australia, but this shift is simply to transfer the need for “the other” from the target of an insecure insulated group to become the target of an insecure mass society. Here, “the other” describes a fake enemy. Those who hate or envy us because of our values, not because of what we do. .. Stephen Smith.
PS: Roo shooting is also jolly good fun.
PPS: Minced roo meat is for sale in Australian supermarkets, beside the empty space reserved for Koala ribs. It is a low-fat, fine beef-textured fleash when minced, but rather ‘gamey’ odoured when raw.
Sheilas – As a ‘bloke’ would explain it to his ‘mate’ a sheila is a bloke without a donga, just a plain map of Tasmania with two white pointers. If there’s anything else about sheilas, well, he’s probably not really sure.
Single mass shooting – This collective phrase needs a little background. Tasmania (you’re beginning to see it as Australians do: Tas+mania) is, it might surprise the dear foreigner, STILL a convict colony, with many of the incarcerated on day release in that forlorn cold wet windly little island. Some cut down trees and pulp them, others build hydro-electric dams and flood prehistoric tracts of irreplaceable world heritage. The rest are disabled or aged pensioners, or on the dole.
Tasmanians lurk for years around their stockades, occasionally emerging to re-enact glory days as genocidal colonialists, or bush rangers. To truly embrace Tassi as a tourist destination, read about this criminally insane sociopath
Speedos – As in riding up gluteal clefts. First, an aside (as if this entire article isn’t): A fabled and beloved Oztrilian comedian Norman Gunston explained “why underpants ride up” in terms of an Aboriginal dreamtime legend.
Underpants are, he proffered, imbued with ancient spirits that still seek the freedom of their carnate form, futilely seeking flight though wrapped around human genitalia (and gluteal clefts). Like a dreamtime wedgie. Speedos have a similar spirit. What’s a Speedo? What Koalas wear to the beach, you fool! Sort of the Victa, Kingswood or Hills-Hoist of swim wear (what, that didn’t help?). Swimming apparel.
South Australia – Not as far south as the rest of us wish. If not for New South Wales, Queensland, Northern Territory, Victoria, Tasmania, and Western Australia, it would be known as Australia. It is a desert state, its tiny green parts relegated to the south-eastern corner. Other claims to fame are an Atom bomb testing range – where the British confirmed Australians were unaffected by severe radiation, leastways intellectually. And since nothing of any value is there, it’s also a proposed nuclear waste dumping ground for the world.
A space rocket program based at Woomera, sold off to India fifty years ago when the brilliant strategic thinkers in the Government of the day premonitionally foreshadowed the day of the bean counter and deduced this “space thingy” was a passing fad.
Famous, too, for testing the Jindivik drone in 1952 – also a passing fad: drones could never catch on.
Oh, yes, South Australia was also famous for a fabulously-gay State Premier, Don Dunstan.
Sydney to Hobard Yacht Race – Annual PR event in which elites exhibit excessive wealth, pausing only to promote lowering Australians’ workplace conditions.
Tasmania – Covered at length above under “Map of Tasmania”( and not always completely by ladies apparel). An observation about Tasmania claims that it’s short history contains acts of violence against people and nature that pale the world’s great atrocities.
The Port Arthur massacre, Tasmanian Aborigine genocide, Franklin River desecration, Lake Pedder inundation, Tasmanian Tiger extinction, Queenstown’s ore smelter moonscape. Mountain folk can be scary.
Two up – Until the
elite mafia dragged Australian gambling screaming by the short and curlies into the twentieth century, “two up” was Oztralya’s quintessential gambling addiction. Casinos were once NOT air-conditioned glittering palaces costing millions of dollars a day to run – they were a bunch of underclass in a vacant lot tossing a coin in the air. Heads or bloody Tails? And that was it! Now you get to wager the family pay packet in absolute comfort, with complimentary drinks – oh, and the House always wins!
Victoria – Per Tasmania, but wider.
Wake in Fright – What most Australians do in their dreams.
Waltzing Matilda – Probably .. no, definitely, the single worst song ever written. Which explains why the population of Oztralya love it so much. (Yes, I’m aware dear foreign reader, that explains nothing)
Western Australia – Largest quarry on the face of the the quarry planet Earth. And except for .. yada yada ..would also be known as the “Desert State.” And it’s so far from the rest of Australia that we on the East Coast sometimes mistakenly call it ”Western Austria.” Hmmm, dear Western Australia, how else may I insult thee? Politically, Westralians imagine themselves Texans.