Our Friends From Down Under

Much as I'm loath to generalise, I have to say that I've always found Australians to be very pass-remarkable. And although I'm sure it's got nothing at all to do with it, all the pass-remarkable Australians I've ever met, have been from an Ulster Protestant background. I could even narrow their ancestry to North Antrim.

Let me give you a couple of examples. First there were the cousins from Dubbo, fourth cousins, probably twice removed, who were doing the rounds of the Ulster rellies. She was a quiet enough girl but he was a complete gobshite who'd shag anything that moved and who commented (loudly) on finding a floater in the dunny. Honestly! I could have slapped him.

Then there was Ron's brother, who hadn't even been in Australia that long, but he certainly believed in saying what was on his mind. There we all were, having a few beers, relaxing, and as I placed my feet up on the coffee table, my trews rode up a little and Yerman says,

Strewth! Ya might have shaved yer legs!

In my own house! Honestly! I could have slapped him.

Instead I said,

Haven't you ever read The Beauty Myth?