God Bless Australia

It's all been God Bless America this week but on Monday we celebrate Australia Day. And I'm ready for a long weekend even if it is going to be another blistering 35-40 in the shade. It's so hot, I've developed prickly heat rash on my forearms and fingers . . never before! WTF?

Yep, we mark the day Captain Cook landed and claimed the land Terra Nullis (sadly it had some occupants who had popped over 2000 years beforehand but . . small detail). It's a big day, a big celebration, an excuse to get pissed, (not for me, I'm on the wagon) watch the Ferry Races and the Fireworks and of course fire up the barbie . . . I did email this to some of you but for the others . .this is what it means to be an Aussie:

We are the people of a free nation of blokes, sheilas and the occasional wanker.

We come from many lands (although a few too many of us come from New Zealand), and although we live in the best country in the world, we reserve the right to bitch and moan about it whenever we bloody like. But don't you dare unless you've been naturalised and can sing "Ozzie Ozzie Ozzie Oi Oi Oi" (clever chant that one!)

We are One Nation but divided into States and Territories

First, there's Victoria, named after a queen who didn't believe in lesbians.
Victoria is the realm of Mossimo turtlenecks, cafe latte, grand final day, and big horse races.
Its capital is Melbourne, whose chief marketing pitch is that "it's livable". At least that's what they think. Each license plate declares that its's "on the move" although we're not sure to where.
The rest of us think it is too bloody cold and wet.

Next, there's NSW, the realm of pastel shorts, macchiato with sugar, thin books read quickly and millions of dancing queens.
Its capital Sydney has more queens than any other city in the world and is proud of it.
Its mascots are Bondi lifesavers who pull their Speedos up their cracks to keep the left and right sides of their brains separate. But we have a bridge over which you can climb in a grey spiderman suit and an opera house that nobody can afford to attend.

Down south we have Tasmania, a State based on the notion that the family that bonks together stays together. In Tassie, everyone gets an extra chromosome at conception and it's wise to count the fingers.
Maps of the State bring smiles to the sternest faces.
It holds the world record for a single mass shooting, which the Yanks can't seem to beat no matter how often they try. (Then again, they might have thrashed us with the Virgina job last year)

South Australia is the province of half-decent reds, a festival of foreigners and bizarre axe murders.
SA is the state of innovation. Where else can you so effectively reuse country bank vaults and barrels as in Snowtown, just out of Adelaide (also named after a queen).
They had the Grand Prix, but lost it when the views of Adelaide sent the Formula One drivers to sleep at the wheel.

Western Australia is too far from anywhere to be relevant.
It's main claim to fame is that it doesn't have daylight saving because if it did,
all the men would get erections on the bus on the way to work.
WA was the last state to stop importing convicts and many of them still work there in the government and business.


The Northern Territory is the red heart of our land. Outback plains, sheep stations the size of Europe, kangaroos, Jackaroos, emus, Uluru, and dusty kids with big smiles.
It also has the highest beer consumption of anywhere on the planet and its creek beds have the highest aluminium content of anywhere too.
Although the Territory is the centrepiece of our national culture, few of us live there and the rest prefer to fly over it on our way to Bali. As my recent visitor announced, all that's out there is "Red Shit"

There's the Australian Capital Territory . . the home of museums nobody goes to, clubs that close at 12 and of course where pollies spend their week complaining about the size of portions in the HP canteen. I might add that my recent visitor also added, "Perhaps Canberra could make "the Less Said the Better" the numberplate slogan for the ACT. He has a point.

. . .And there's Queensland.
While any mention of God seems silly in a document defining a nation of half arsed sceptics, it is worth noting that God probably made Queensland, as it is beautiful one day and perfect the next.
Why he filled it with dickheads remains a mystery.

We want to make "no worries mate" our national phrase, "she'll be right mate" our national attitude and "Waltzing Matilda“ our national anthem (so what if it's about a
sheep-stealing crim who commits suicide?).

Stand proud Aussies - we shoot, we root, we vote.

We are girt by sea and pissed by lunchtime.

I am, you are, we are Australian!

We also shoot and eat the two animals that are on our National Crest!!!!

No other country has this distinction!