My fellow Australians, incidents of un-Australian behaviour over the past year is enough to make me choke on my lamb chops, and it was all down to one thing: Not enough lamb.
For example, Australian models hold on in Asia will get along less in trouble if they carried a couple of lamb chops in their handbags. Lamb could’ve prevented the Boof’ed perpetrating violence on our beaches, it’s bloody hard to bash someone with a cutlet. And we might not have lost the Ashes if our cricketers picked up lamb chops, instead of mobile phones. Why on Earth did they dispatch lyric text messages to English trollops, when plenty of Australian sheilas would badly target at their middle stump?
Yet mist have spread across the land, like bird flew through a Chinese chicken coop, what were we doing about it? Bugger all. It’s time to remind ourselves of what lies at the core of our national identity: A lamb chop on a barbie.
Being Australian doesn’t mean you have to call the opposition captain a wanker, even if he is! Or smother everything in tomato sauce, ’til it resembles in our casualty ward. Or pull on a pair of budgie smugglers, I’d prefer you didn’t.
And you don’t have to spend every Friday night on the piss ’til your best friend looks like Elle McPherson, throw up in a cap, then trip over the garden gnome before passing out on your front lawn. In fact, to be as Australian as I am, done your apron – mine says “Chop gun” -, whack some nice juicy lamb chops on the barbie, invite everyone over, if you can’t pronounce their name, just call them “Mate”, and celebrate living in the best bloody country on Earth.
So don’t be un-Australian, serve lamb on Australia Day. You know it makes sense. I’m Sam Kekovich.