Anti-Antipodean

WHAT I THINK OF AUSTRALIA IN LESS THAN 100 WORDS: The accent is jarring. What was that? No, I don't want to go for a beer, thank you mate. Australia, like Kiwiland, is unsure where it came from and where it's going. The transport and health infrastructures are good but it's a soulless enough kind of place. The people here are easily confused- all you have to say is "hello, how are you?". The weather is nice, if a little hot. Everyone looks post-human, such is the devotion to sport and fitness. But there is a darkness under the sunkissed corn-fed grins. Australia, it seems, has witnessed a concerted programme of ethnic cleansing and murder of its aboriginal peoples, ceasing only in the 1940s after the Stolen Children contraversy, with a huge prejudicial hangover persisting to this day. Aboriginals live mostly in penury, have an average life expectancy of 50 years and are diabetic, alcoholic and unemployed for the most part. I have never seen racism quite like it. Australia have essentially been operating an apartheid system for the past 200 years, masquerading under the banner of a constitutional monarchy. Additionally, the Aussies are a bit fucking full of themselves for my liking. For example, I was talking to a girl in a bar recently and casually enquired as to the score in the Ashes series. She looked sideways at me and said- I'm serious- "Doesn't matter. We're Australian. We win everything". Needless to say she stared at me blankly when I asked her if she had watched Australia's mauling by Ireland in the Autumn test series. I suppose the architecture of the cities almost dictates social behaviour. Melbourne, for example is geographically larger than London, such is the urban sprawl and penchant for ribbon development. This leaves people isolated in the dullness of the suburbs, peeking out of windows, driving everywhere and not having any central societal focus. The only area I've found a bit of community spirit is in the Chinatown district of Melbourne, and even then the church is a bar and the altar a karaoke machine.

In short: boring.

LANDSCAPE: Varied, but mostly scrubland and desert.

BACKWOODS CREEPS: John Tully and I decided to check out the Hunter and Yarra Valleys, which are wine regions in New South Wales and Victoria respectively. We rented a car and ended up driving from Sydney to Melborne, some 700 miles. Along the way we stopped in some of the strangest places I've ever seen; villages with no economy save that provided by truckers stopping to have lunch; the site of the last stand of Ned Kelly and the Kelly Gang: a town called Bobbin Head (honestly folks); pies, pies, pies; and karaoke, loads of karaoke. What's worse is, we almost ran out of petrol thanks to a faulty gauge and had to coast through the outback to a petrol station with the words "Backpacker Murders" ringing in our ears. But we made it to Melborne safely and breathed some relief at the fact. It was interesting; the people in the outback towns are so isolated they seem to whip themselves into a frenzy at night, usually alcohol fuelled and got out looking for trouble, or pool, or karaoke, or all three.

WOULD I EVER LIVE HERE?: Not on your life, constable.

ARE THE ASHES OF ANY CONSEQUENCE WHATSOEVER? No.

IS THERE SUCH A THING AS AUSSIE CULTURE?: Well, I saw a man crush a beercan with one hand yesterday.

AM I READY TO LEAVE?: Yes

India beckons, dear readers, and I shall hopefully emerge from that subcontinent with a bossy wife and some funny yoga positions. I'll keep you posted.