YOU KNOW YOU'RE AUSTRALIAN WHEN . . .

 

How true are these? . . .

Some extra ones . . .

You know the meaning of the word “girt”.

When you hear that an American “roots for his team” you wonder how often and with whom.

You understand that the phrase “a group of women wearing black thongs” refers to footwear and may be less alluring than it sounds.

You can translate: “Dazza and Shazza played Acca Dacca on the way to Maccas.”

You believe it makes perfect sense for a nation to decorate its highways with large fibreglass bananas, prawns and sheep.

You call your best friend “a total bastard” but someone you really, truly despise is just “a real bastard”.

You believe that cooked-down axlegrease makes a good breakfast spread. (Mmm…Vegemite…)

(Personally, I loathe Vegemite).

You believe all famous Kiwis are actually Australian, until they stuff up, at which point they again become Kiwis.

You know that certain words must, by law, be shouted out during any rendition of the Angels’ song Am I Ever Gonna See Your Face Again.

You believe, as an article of faith, that the confectionary known as the Wagon Wheel has become smaller with every passing year.

You still don’t get why the “Labor” in “Australian Labor Party” is not spelt with a “u”.

You believe, as an article of faith, that every important discovery in the world was made by an Australian but then sold off to the Yanks for a pittance.

You understand that “you” has a plural and that it’s “youse”.

You still think of Kylie as “that girl off Neighbours”.

When returning home from overseas, you expect to be brutally strip-searched by Customs – just in case you’re trying to sneak in fruit.

You believe the phrase “smart casual” refers to a pair of black tracky-daks, suitably laundered.

You understand that all train timetables are works of fiction.

When working on a bar, you understand male customers will feel the need to offer an excuse whenever they order low-alcohol beer.

You find yourself ignorant of nearly all the facts deemed essential in the government’s new test for migrants.

You know, whatever the tourist books say, no one says “cobber”.