So it’s like this; I’m an English student, both in terms of the fact I have to read Hamlet and discuss his state of mind, and also because that’s how it describes my nationality on my passport. Well, it actually says British, but you get my drift.
I was approached recently and tasked with outlining the differences, from my youthful perspective, between the UK and our cousins from the Outback. Crikey, mate!
Don’t worry, that’s the last lame stereotype I’ll call upon. They’re just simply not funny. Not nearly as refreshing as this tin of Fosters Super Chilled I’m currently sipping on. Oops. Moving on…
It’s not often I’m given the freedom to judge people, so I looked forward to writing this piece intensely. Until I got this far and started to think of the mass revision my time should really be occupying instead.
And there lies the problem. We Brits are procrastinators; bloody negative ones and all. As tunefully convincing as Monty Python may be, very few of us look on the bright side of life; we merely groan in disappointment when the clock strikes about 10pm, knowing we’ve got to get up at the crack of dawn to work jobs we hate for a distinctly average wage.
From what I gather, my assumption based on having distant relatives of Aussie orientation as well as watching typecast television shows, you lot are far more laid back. Understandably so with more generous salaries, a government that people actually wanted and perennial sunshine to bathe in. Whilst we settle for the mediocrity of beans on toast, you have the luxurious joy of sticking crustaceans on the charcoal grill (see, stereotype averted). Your lives are simply better than ours, by some distance. And don’t you just know it.
There are things I don’t like about Australia: unnecessarily high numbers of dangerous animals, the use of the term ‘soccer’ when referring to the beautiful game, but what irritates me most are your pseudo-celebrities like Shane Warne and Dannii Minogue; so nauseatingly arrogant that they make me want to staple my eyelids. Too much? Sorry. Of course there’s Rupert Murdoch too.
But despite those bugbears, the quality of life seems to be far superior over there on the other side of the world. So why don’t we move into all that open space and indulge in the Australian lifestyle? Typically, we can’t be arsed. It would be uncharacteristic of the British to stop moaning and actually get up, go out and rectify our problems and fulfil our promises: “This time next year, Rodney, we’ll be millionaires!”
Bet that’s what you think of us isn’t it? We’re all dodgy cockney wide boys, driving yellow Reliant Robins, selling knock-off wristwatches. I don’t really know where this stream of consciousness is going so let’s just call it a day. You’re better than us. Your superiority even extends to cricket, in which you’re number the best…oh wait, no. Awkward. I’ll leave you smarting at that subtle dig. Rule Britannia!
