This Land of OZ!
WE, the people of the broad brown land of Oz, wish to be recognised as
a free nation of blokes, sheilas and the occasional indigenous fella.
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.
We are One Nation but we're divided into many States.
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 "liveable". At least that's what
they think. 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.
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. 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.
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 in this
document. 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, Ulurus
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.
And there's Queensland. While any mention of God seems silly in a
document defining a nation of half-arsed agnostics, it is worth noting
that God probably made Queensland. Why he filled it with dickheads
remains a mystery.
Oh yes, and there's Canberra. The least said the better.
We, the citizens of Oz, are united by the Pacific Highway, whose
treacherous twists and turns kill more of us each year than die by
murder. We are united in our lust for international recognition, so
desperate for praise we leap in joy when a ragtag gaggle of corrupt IOC
officials tells us Sydney is better than Beijing.
We are united by a democracy so flawed that a political party, albeit a
redneck gun-toting one, can get a million votes and still not win one
seat in Federal Parliament while bloody Brian Harradine can get 24,000
votes and run the whole country.
Not that we're whingeing, we leave that to our Pommy immigrants. 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).
We love sport so much our newsreaders can read the death toll from a sailing race and still tell us who's winning.
And we're the best in the world at all the sports that count, like
cricket, netball, rugby, AFL, roo-shooting, two-up and horse racing.
We also have the biggest rock, the tastiest pies, the blackest
aborigines and the worst-dressed Olympians in the known universe.
We shoot, we root, we vote. We are girt by sea and pissed by lunchtime.
And even though we might seem a racist, closed-minded, sports-obsessed
little people, at least we're better than the Kiwis.
Anon.(Through fear of reprisals)