Every country has its traditions. The Americans like to lynch one another and cook hominy. In France, the custom is to throw lots of smelly cheese at politicians and burn the occasional car as a kind of afterthought. In this country, once every year, we have a ceremony known as 'Australia Day'. This roughly translates into the Queen's English as 'The Day of Australia', and it commemorates the occasion at the same time last year when we celebrated Australia Day. On Australia Day, we all like to wave sausages around, get drunk, wrap flags around our torsoes, and gently wrap our genitals in underwear-shaped flags. I saw it all on Today Tonight, so it must be true!
Other common customs during Australia Day include standing around with large groups of other people in parks; saying things about 'Invasion Day' and looking sad; and cheerfully extorting your boss out of large amounts of money on the grounds of 'it's a public holiday, maaaaate'.
As for me, I went mostly for the last option, spending most of my holiday pay on upcoming travel expenses - a beanie, and a bag. Tomorrow, I shall be purchasing myself a Fedora. Because I can.
What did you guys do for Australia Day? The lazier, the better, I reckon!
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11 comments:
Three cheers for Your Soon-to-be Fedora! I'm looking forward to The Ballad of the Travelling Fedora (here I recommend that you meet as many Pandoras and Lenoras as you possibly can).
And presumably wearing angora, just to round things off?
But of course; and though it doesn't quite rhyme, a glass or two of madeira (m'dear) wouldn't go astray.
Madeira with Lenora from Torah Borah? Sounds spiffing!
I did absolutely nothing...therefore I must be the winner!
I continued to invade my bed for half the day, in celebration and honor of invasions everywhere.
Ah, I like that idea.
Tomorrow morning, I plan to lie in bed for half the day in commemoration of the Celtic vanquishing of the Picts. The day after that, who knows? Perhaps I shall laze about in honour of Sargon's various conquests of the ancient Middle East?
I lay in bed and listened to the neightbours hold a rather exhausting Hottest 100 party. Later, I got up and lay on the couch.
Much of my brain was, inexplicably, taken up with what will happen in the next Harry Potter book and developing wild new theories that, after a short internet seach, were neither wild nor new. I fucking hate that the internet thinks of things before I do.
Kill the internet! Can I be your designated assassin?
*takes out sword and lazily waves it over Tim*
In the name of all that's unholy I hereby name thee Sir Tim of the Hopeless Missions, wonderous wordsmith and designated internet assain...
*apologises for feeble attempts and cutting hair and naming*
What Jen said!
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