thoughts of anzac day

Another Australian holiday has come and gone while I’m not in the country. I should be getting all patriotic and cooking Anzac biscuits this weekend. (For the Americans, ANZAC stands for Australian and New Zealand Army Corps – Anzac Day commemorates the anniversary of the first major military action the troops were involved in during World War One – they are also yummy biscuits… or cookies, if you will.)

I was actually still in the country for Australia Day though (Jan 26th), so I got to hear the mild kerfuffle aroused when the following ad came out from Meat and Livestock Australia. Read by Sam Kekovich, who’s gained a reputation for doing these sort of monologues, a few people took it all a little bit too seriously (probably just the hippy vegetarians though, so that’s alright)…

There’s nothing worse than being un-Australian. I should know, I’ve been Australian all my life. And I’m sickened by the creeping tide of un-Australianism eroding our great traditions. Like our custom of eating lamb on Australia Day. Un-Australianism is everywhere. For example people wearing those plastic brightly coloured flip flop shoes with flowers on them. What’s wrong with rubber thongs in simple primary colours. If I hear another person say thong, when they mean those swimming costumes that pooncy Brazilian blokes wear up their bums, I’ll do my block. Sadly, the scourge of un-Australianism has even infected our national day. A balanced Australia day diet should consist of a few nice juicy lamb chops and beer. And perhaps a bit of pavlova for those with a sweet tooth. Yet your long-haired dole bludging types are indulging their pierced taste buds in all manner of exotic, foreign, often vegetarian cuisine. Chicken burger value meals, pizzas, a number 42 with rice. It’s an absolute disgrace. And people ask why we need capital punishment. Do you think the diggers in the trenches were fighting for tofu sausages? No. They were thinking of grabbing a lamb chop off the barbie with their bare fingers, sustaining third degree burns, then sticking their hands in a relieving esky to fish out a cold one. Look at our national song, Waltzing Matilda. It’s about a bloke trying to get a nice bit of lamb into his tucker bag, not spicy chicken wings. The soap avoiding pot smoking hippy vegetarians may disagree with me. But they can get stuffed. They know the way to the airport. And if they don’t, I’ll show them. So the message is clear, even for you backpackers. Roll out the barbie, ensure the gas bottles filled, stack the fridge full of lamb, and prepare the invitation list. So don’t be un-Australian. Serve lamb on Australia Day. You know it makes sense.

Oh, and courtesy of Barista, I’m becoming increasingly fascinated by this cover of Joy Division’s Love Will Tear Us Apart by the Russian band Yat-Kha. As he says, it sounds “like someone snoring into a didgeridu with a strong Russian accent”. Yet strangely compelling…