G'day Australia
Car Wreck There was an Aussie, a Scotsman and an Aborigine driving along, when they rolled the car and the three of them got killed. They went to Heaven and met St Peter at the Pearly Gates. They explained that they'd been killed and needed a place to stay. St Peter replied, "I'd love to help you boys but we're full up after the holiday season. I'm afraid you'll have to go into Limbo till there's a vacancy." The Aussie slipped St Pete $50 and asked if that'd make any difference. St Peter said, "For that mate, you can go back to Earth." By the time the Aussie got back, there were police everywhere and an ambulance. They all got a real shock when he sat up. "What happened? You've been dead for half and hour," asked the ambulance driver. He told them about St Peter and the $50, so the ambulance driver asked why the other two didn't come back. "Well," says the Aussie, "the Scotsman's trying to bargain him down to $20 and the Abo reckons the government should pay for it!"
Two Crocodiles Are Sitting.............. ..... at the side of the swamp near the lake in Canberra. The smaller one turned to the bigger one and said, "I can't understand how you can be so much bigger than me. We're the same age, we were the same size as kids. I just don't get it." "Well," said the big Croc, "what have you been eating?" "Politicians, same as you," replied the small 'Croc. "Hmm. Well, where do you catch them?" "Down the other side of the swamp near the parking lot by the Parliament House." "Same here. Hmm. How do you catch them?" "Well, I crawl up under one of their Caprice cars and wait for one to unlock the car door. Then I jump out, grab them by the leg, shake the shit out of them and eat 'em up!" "Ah!" says the big Crocodile, "I think I see your problem, you're not getting any real nourishment. See, by the time you finish shaking the shit out of a Politician, there's nothing left but an arsehole and a briefcase."
Aussie Immigration I remember my first trip to Australia. I was on the plane filling in the immigration document and one of the questions was "do you have a criminal record". I thought that was strange - I was sure you didn't need one these days....
In The Outback An Australian tour guide was showing a group of American tourists the Top End On their way to Kakadu he was describing the abilities of the Australian Aborigine to track man or beast over land, through the air, under the sea. The Americans were incredulous. Then later in the day, the tour rounded a bend on the highway and discovered, lying in the middle of the road, an Aborigine. He had one ear pressed to the white line whilst his left leg was held high in the air. The tour stopped and the guide and the tourists gathered around the prostrate Aborigine. "Jacky," said the tour guide, "what are you tracking and what are you listening for?" The aborigine replied, "Down the road about 25 miles is a 1971 Valiant Ute. It's red. The left front tyre is bald. The front end is out of whack and it has dents in every panel. There are 9 blackfellas in the back, all drinking warm sherry. There are 3 kangaroos on the roof rack and 6 dogs on the front seat." The American tourists moved forward, astounded by this precise and detailed knowledge. "Goddammit man, how do you know all that?" asked one. The Aborigine replied, "I fell out of the bloody thing about half an hour ago!"
Dave and Jim were a couple of drinking buddies who worked as Aircraft mechanics in Melbourne. One day the airport was fogged in and they were stuck in the hangar with nothing to do. Dave said, "Man, I wish we had something to drink!" Jim says, "Me too. Y'know, I've heard you can drink jet fuel and get a buzz. You wanna try it?" So they pour themselves a couple of glasses of high octane booze and get completely smashed. The next morning Dave wakes up and is surprised at how good he feels. In fact he feels GREAT! NO hangover! NO bad side effects. Nothing! Then the phone rings. It's Jim. Jim says, "Hey, how do you feel this morning?" Dave says, "I feel great, how about you?" Jim says, "I feel great, too. You don't have a hangover?" Dave says, "No that jet fuel is great stuff -- no hangover, nothing. We ought to do this more often." "Yeah, well there's just one thing." "What's that?" "Have you farted yet?" "No." "Well, DON'T, 'cause I'm in Perth."
Bruce is driving over the Sydney Harbour Bridge one day when he sees his girlfriend, Sheila about to throw herself off. Bruce slams on the brakes and yells, "Sheila, what the hell d'ya think you're doing?" Sheila turns around with a tear in her eye and says, "G'day Bruce. Ya got me pregnant and so now I'm gonna kill myself." Bruce gets a lump in his throat when he hears this. He says "Strewth Sheila, not only are you a great shag, but you're a real sport too," and drives off.
Two Aussie blokes were down at the front fence of the cricket match when the beer cans started flying. One of them was so concerned about being hit he kept looking over his shoulder and couldn't really concentrate on the game. "Don't worry," said his mate. "As they said in the war, if there's one with your name on it..." "That's just it," said his friend. "My name's Foster!"
A quick guide to Australian Culture The bigger the hat, the smaller the farm. The shorter the nickname, the more they like you. Whether its the opening of Parliament, or the launch of a new art gallery, there is no Australian event that cannot be improved by a sausage sizzle. If the guy next to you is swearing like a wharfie he's probably a media billionaire. Or, just conceivably, a wharfie. On the beach, all Australians hide their keys and wallet by placing them inside their sandshoes. No thief has ever worked this out. We might have very stupid thieves. Or really stinky sandshoes. Industrial design knows of no article more useful than the milk crate. All our best heroes are losers. The alpha male in any group is he who takes the barbecue tongs from the hands of the host and blithely begins turning the snags. It's not summer until the steering wheel is too hot to hold. A thong is not a piece of scanty swimwear, as in America, but a fine example of footwear. A group of sheilas wearing black rubber thongs may not be as exciting as you had hoped. It is proper to refer to your best friend as "a total bastard". By contrast, your worst enemy is "a bit of a bastard". Historians believe the widespread use of the word "mate" can be traced to the harsh conditions on the Australian frontier in the 1890s, and the development of a code of mutual aid, or "mateship". Alternatively, we may all just be really hopeless with names. The wise man chooses a partner who is attractive not only to himself, but to neighbourhood mosquitoes. If it can't be fixed with pantyhose and fencing wire, it's not worth fixing. The most popular and widely praised family in any street is the one that just happens to have the swimming pool. The phrase "we've got a great lifestyle" means everyone in the family drinks too much. If invited to a party, you should take cheap red wine, but then spend all night drinking the host's beer. Don't worry, he'll have catered for it. If there's any sort of free event or party within a hundred kilometres, you'd be a mug not to go. The phrase "a simple picnic" is not known. Or at least not acted upon. You should take everything. If you don't need to make three trips back to the car, you are not trying. Unless ethnic, you are not permitted to sit down in your front yard, or on your front porch. Pottering about, gardening or fence-leaning is acceptable. Just don't sit. That's what backyards are for. Out in the bush, the tarred road always ends just after the house of the local mayor. A flash sportscar driven by a middle-aged man does not incite envy as in America, but hilarity. When on a country holiday, the motel neon advertising the pool will always be slightly larger than the actual pool. The men are tough, but the women are tougher. The chief test of manhood is one's ability to install a beach umbrella in high winds. And, finally, don't let the tourist books fool you. No-one says "cobber".
Australian Contitution WE, the People of the broad, brown land of Oz, wish to be recognized as a free nation of blokes, sheilas and the occasional trannie. We come from many lands (although a few too many of us come from New Zealand) and, although we live in the best little country in the world, we reserve the right to b**ch 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 and grand final day. Its capital is Melbourne, whose chief marketing pitch is that it's "livable". Next, there's NSW. It is the realm of pastel shorts, macchiato with sugar, thin books read quickly and millions of dancing gay-boys. 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. South Australia is the province of half-decent reds, a festival of foreigners and bizarre axe murders. 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. The Northern Territory is the red heart of our land. Outback plains, sheep stations, kangaroos, jackaroos, emus, Ulurus and dusty kids with big smiles. 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 dick***ds remains a mystery. We, the Lullaby League of Oz, are united, primarily 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. Desirable, sure. But fair? Not when you consider Brian Harradine can get 24,000 votes and runs the bloody country. Not that we're whingeing. We've chucked out the concept of "fair go" in the downsized '90s. Instead, we want to make "no worries" our national phrase. We love sport so much our newsreaders can read the death toll from a sailing race and still tell us who's winning, in the same breath. We treasure our politicians, who talk about listening with such persistence it's hard to get a word in. We tolerate our Prime Minister, who is not only short but a Methodist, hanging offences in decent countries. And we like watching Parliament on TV because Natasha Stott Despoja is a total spunkrat. We, the wicked witches of the land of Oz, want to make it clear this continent is ours and always has been. Mind you, Liberal Party polling shows that there were some people here before Captain Cook so we should address the issue once and for all. While possession is nine-tenths of the law, our ancestors were fortunate enough to discover that genocide, cultural extinguishment, baby theft and flour poisoning make up the other tenth. So Oz is now ours and that's that. Our midget Methodist master says we have no reason to feel sorry for killing more Aborigines per capita than the Nazis did Jews and Liberal Party polling says we're OK with that. Why don't we say sorry? In the words of our PM - because, because, because, because, because. Now, can we just drop the whole thing before the Olympics start? Phew, with that nasty bit out of the way, we the Brain, the Heart and the Nerve of Oz, want the world to know we have the biggest rock, the tastiest pies and the worst-dressed Olympians in the known universe. We don't know much about art but we know we hate the people who make it. We shoot, 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. Now bugger off, we're sleeping.
These questions about Australia posted on an Australian Tourism Website - Obviously the answers came from a Aussie.
1. Q: Does it ever get windy in Australia? I have never seen it rain on TV, so
how do the plants grow? (UK)
2. Q: Will I be able to see kangaroos in the street? (USA)
3. Q: I want to walk from Perth to Sydney - can I follow the railroad tracks?
(Sweden)
4. Q: Is it safe to run around in the bushes in Australia? (Sweden)
5. Q: It is imperative that I find the names and addresses of places to contact
for a stuffed porpoise. (Italy)
6. Q: Are there any ATMs (cash machines) in Australia? Can you send me a list of
them in Brisbane, Cairns, Townsville and Hervey Bay? (UK)
8. Q: Which direction is North in Australia? (USA)
9. Q: Can I bring cutlery into Australia? (UK)
10. Q: Can you send me the Vienna Boys' Choir schedule? (USA)
11. Q: Do you have perfume in Australia? (France)
12. Q: I have developed a new product that is the fountain of youth. Can you
tell me where I can sell it in Australia (USA)
13. Q: Can I wear high heels in Australia? (UK)
14. Q: Can you tell me the regions in Tasmania where the female
population is smaller than the male population? (Italy)
15. Q: Do you celebrate Christmas in Australia? (France)
16. Q: Are there killer bees in Australia? (Germany)
17. Q: I have a question about a famous animal in Australia, but I
forget its name. It's a kind of bear and lives in trees. (USA)
18. Q: I was in Australia in 1969 on R+R, and I want to contact the girl
I dated while I was staying in Kings Cross. Can you help? (USA)
19. Q: Will I be able to speak English most places I go? (USA)
20. Q: Please send a list of all doctors in Australia who can dispense
rattlesnake serum. (USA)
21. Q: Are there supermarkets in Sydney and is milk available all year round?
(Germany)
A guy spent five years traveling all around the world making a documentary on Native dances. At the end of this time, he had every single native dance of every indigenous culture in the world on film -- or so he thought. He wound up in Australia, in Alice Springs, so he popped into a pub for a well earned beer. He got talking to one of the local Aborigines and told him about his project. The Aborigine asked the guy what he thought of the Butcher Dance. "Butcher Dance?" he said, confused. "What's that?" "What? You didn't see the Butcher Dance?" "No, I've never heard of it." "Mate, you're crazy," the Aborigine replied. "How can you say you filmed every native dance if you haven't seen the Butcher Dance?" "Umm. I got a Corroborree on film just the other week. Is that what you mean?" "No, no. The Butcher Dance is much more important than the Corroborree." "Oh," the man said, his curiosity piqued. "Well how can I see this Butcher Dance then?" "Mate, the Butcher Dance is way out in the wilderness. It'll take you many days of travel to go see it." "Look, I've been everywhere from the forests of the Amazon, to deepest darkest Africa, to the frozen wastes of the Arctic filming these dances. Nothing will prevent me from recording this one last dance." "Ok, mate," the Aborigine replied, shrugging. "You drive north along the highway towards Darwin. After you drive 197 miles, you'll see a dirt track veer off to left. Follow the dirt track for 126 miles till you see big huge dead gum tree -- the biggest tree you've ever seen. Here you gotta leave car, because it's much too rough for driving. You strike out due west into the setting sun. Walk three days till you hit a creek. You follow this creek to the northwest. After two days you'll find where the creek flows out of some rocky mountains, but it's much too difficult to cross the mountains there, though. So you head south for half day until you see a pass through mountains. The pass is very difficult and very dangerous. It'll take you two, maybe three days to get through it. On the other side, head northwest for four days until you reach a big huge rock -- twenty feet high and shaped like a man's head. From the rock, walk due west for two days, and then you'll find the village. You'll be able to see the Butcher Dance there." So the guy grabbed his camera crew and equipment and headed out. After a couple of hours, he found the dirt track. The track was in a shocking state, and he was forced to crawl along at a snail's pace, and so he didn't reach the tree until dusk, where he was forced to set up camp for the night. He set out bright and early the following morning. His spirits were high, and he was excited about the prospect of capturing on film this mysterious dance that he had never heard mention of before. True to the directions he had been given, he reached the creek after three days and followed it for another two, until he reached the rocky mountains. The merciless sun was starting to take its toll, and the spirits of both himself and his crew were starting to flag; but wearily they trudged on, finally finding the pass through the mountains. Nothing would prevent him from completing his life's dream. The mountains proved to be every bit as treacherous as their guide had said, and at times they despaired of ever getting their bulky equipment through. But after three and a half days of back breaking effort, they finally forced their way clear and continued their long trek. When they reached the huge rock, four days later, their water was running low, and their feet were covered with blisters, but they steeled themselves and headed out on the last leg of their journey. Two days later they virtually staggered into the village. To their relief, the natives welcomed them and fed them and gave them fresh water, and they began to feel like new men. Once he recovered enough, the guy went before the village chief and told him that he came to film their Butcher Dance. "Oh mate," he said. "Very bad you come today. Butcher Dance last night. You too late. You miss dance." "Well, when do you hold the next dance?" "Not till next year." "Well, I've come all this way. Couldn't you just hold an extra dance for me tonight?" "No, no, no!" the chief exclaimed. "Butcher Dance very holy. Only hold once a year. You want see Butcher Dance, you come back next year." Understandably, the guy was devastated, but he had no other option but to head back to civilization and back home. The following year, he headed back to Australia and, determined not to miss out again, set out a week earlier than before. He was quite willing to spend a week in the village before the dance is performed in order to ensure he was present to witness it. But right from the start, things went wrong. Heavy rains that year turned the dirt track to mud, and the car got bogged down every few miles. Finally they had to abandon their vehicles and slog through the mud on foot almost half the distance to the tree. They reached the creek and the mountains without any further problems, but halfway through the mountain pass, they were struck by a fierce storm that raged for several days, during which they were forced to cling forlornly to the mountainside until it subsided. Then, before they had traveled a mile out from the mountains, one of the crew sprained his ankle badly, slowing down the rest of their journey greatly. Eventually, having lost all sense of how long they had been traveling, they staggered into the village right at noon. "The Butcher Dance!" the man gasped. "Please don't tell me I'm too late to see it!" The chief recognized him and said, "No, white fella. Butcher Dance performed tonight. You come just in time." Relieved beyond measure, the crew spent the rest of the afternoon setting up their equipment and preparing to capture the night's ritual on celluloid. As dusk fell, the natives started to cover their bodies in white paint and adorn themselves in all manner of birds' feathers and animal skins. Once darkness had settled fully over the land, the natives formed a circle around a huge roaring fire. A deathly hush descended over performers and spectators alike as a wizened old figure with elaborate swirling designs covering his entire body entered the circle and began to chant. "What's he doing?" the man whispered to the chief. "Hush," the chief whispered back. "You first white man ever to see most sacred of our rituals. Must remain silent. Holy man, he asks that the spirits of the dream world watch as we demonstrate our devotion to them through our dance, and, if they like our dancing, will they be so gracious as to watch over us and protect us for another year." The chanting of the holy man reached a stunning crescendo before he removed himself from the circle. The rhythmic pounding of drums boomed out across the land, and the natives began to sway to the stirring rhythm. The guy became caught up in the fervor of the moment himself. This was it. He realized beyond all doubt that his wait had not been in vain. He was about to witness the ultimate performance of rhythm and movement ever conceived by mankind. The chief strode to his position in the circle and, in a big booming voice, started to sing: "You butch yer right arm in. You butch yer right arm out. You butch yer right arm in, and you shake it all about...."
Billy was at school this morning in the outback and the teacher asked all the children what there fathers did for a living. All the typical answers came out, Fireman, Policeman, Salesman, Chippy, Captain of Industry etc,but Billy was being uncharacteristically quiet and so the teacher asked him about his father. "My father is an exotic dancer in a g4y club and takes off all his clothes in front of other men. Sometimes if the offer is really good, he'll go out with a man, rent a cheap hotel room and let them sleep with him." The teacher quickly set the other children some work and took little Billy aside to ask him if that was really true. "No" said Billy, "He plays cricket for Australia but I was just too embarrassed to say."
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Ya think ya a good Aussie? Take the test : Aussie Test What do you call an Aussie cricketer with 100 by his name? Answer? A bowler.
What's the difference between Australia and a yoghurt? Hang around long enough, and the yoghurt will develop its own culture...
Aussie Whine
On a tour of Australia, the Pope took a few days off to visit the coast for some sightseeing. He was cruising along the beach in the Pope-mobile when there was a frantic commotion just off shore. A helpless man, wearing an English cricket shirt, was struggling frantically to free himself from the jaws of a 20 foot shark. As the Pope watched in horror, a speedboat pulled up with three men wearing Australian cricket shirts. One quickly fired a harpoon into the shark's side while the other two reached out and pulled the blue, semiconscious Pommie fan from the water. Then, using long clubs, the three beat the shark to death and hauled it into the boat. Immediately the Pope shouted and summoned them to him. "I give you my blessing for your brave actions. I heard that there were some bitter hatred between Australian and English cricket fans, but now I have seen with my own eyes that this is not true." As the Pope drove off, the harpooner asked his mates, "Who was that?" "It was the Pope" one replied. "He is in direct contact with God and has access to all of God's wisdom." "Well" the harpooner said, "he may have access to God and his wisdom, but he doesn't know shit about shark fishing..........Is the bait holding up OK or do we need to get another one?"
Steve, Bruce and Jeff are working on a very high scaffolding. Suddenly, Steve falls off. He is killed instantaneously. After the ambulance leaves with Steve's body, Bruce and Jeff realise they'll have to inform his wife. Bruce says he's good at this sort of sensitive stuff, so he volunteers to do the job. After two hours he returns, carrying a six-pack of beer. "So did you tell her?" asks Jeff. "Yep", replies Bruce. "Say, where did you get the six-pack?" Bruce informs Jeff. "She gave it to me." "WHAT?" exclaims Jeff. "You just told her her husband died and she gave you a six-pack?" "Sure," Bruce says. "Why?" asks Jeff. "Well," Bruce continues, "When she answered the door, I asked her, 'are you Steve's widow?' 'Widow?' she said, 'No, no, you're mistaken, I'm not a widow!' So I said: "I'll bet you a six-pack you ARE!'"
A Kiwi was hoping to immigrate to Australia. Upon arriving in Australia, he was questioned by a customs officer, "What is your business in Australia?" "I wish to immigrate," was the Kiwi's reply. The customs officer then asked, "Do you have a conviction record?" Confused, the Kiwi then replied, "I didn't think you still needed one."
Him: G'day Sheila! Fancy a shag?
This is a true story about a recent wedding that took place at Sydney University. It was in the local newspaper and even Alan Jones mentioned it. It was a huge wedding with about 300 guests. After the wedding at the reception, the groom got up on stage with a microphone to talk to the crowd. He said he wanted to thank everyone for coming, many from long distances, to support them at their wedding. He especially wanted to thank the bride and his family and to thank his new father-in-law for providing such a lavish reception. As a token of his deep appreciation he said he wanted to give everyone a special gift just from him. So taped to the bottom of everyone's chair, including the wedding party, was a manila envelope. He said this was his gift to everyone, and asked them to open their envelope. Inside each manila envelope was an 8x10 glossy of his bride having sex with the best man. The groom had gotten suspicious of them weeks earlier and had hired a private detective to tail them. After just standing there, just watching the guests' reactions for a couple of minutes, he turned to the best man and said, "F--- you!". Then he turned to his bride and said "F--- you!". Then he turned to the dumbfounded crowd and said, "I'm outta here." He had the marriage annulled first thing in the morning. While most people would have cancelled the wedding immediately after finding out about the affair, this guy goes through with the charade, as if nothing were wrong. His revenge... making the bride's parents pay over $32,000 for a 300 guest wedding and reception, and best of all, trashing the bride's and best man's reputations in front of 300 friends and family members. Do you think we might get a MasterCard "priceless" commercial out of this? Elegant wedding reception for 300 family members and friends......................................$32,000. Wedding photographs commemorating the occasion...................................................$3,000. Deluxe two week honeymoon accommodations in Maui...................................................$8,500. The look on everyone's face when they see the 8x10 glossy of the bride humping the best man........................................................ .... ...............................Priceless.
Australian Kiss Same as a French kiss but "down under"
Australian Condoms An Australian goes to buy a condom at a nearby chemist. The lady behind the counter gives a choice of three types. German, French, and Australian. "What's the difference," he asks? "Well, the Germans are quite active. They have 7 in the pack. One for Monday, one for Tuesday, and so on." "The French are very passionate people. They have 8. One for Monday, and so on, and 2 on Sundays." "The Australians, well, they have 12." At this, the Australian swells up with pride, Really 12? "Yes, 12. One for January, one for February...."
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