Straya Fair
We Strayans are offered visas on the basis that we sing for our supper when required. What's the point of having such a deeply entrenched international identity if one's hosts cannot demand a display of it every now and again?
The organisation I work for has recently employed a significantly large number of Australians (myself included) (obviously). We have been instructed to perform something 'authentically Australian' at a benefit concert for a children's charity to be hosted by our organisation in two weeks' time. While I realise that it does seem as though ‘unapologetic showpony’ is my default setting I am not, in fact, particularly enthusiastic about performing humiliatingly lame acts at work functions. However, because this is a charity concert, one must join in or one is accused of hating the children. And I don't hate the children.
The Australian staff contingent assembled at lunchtime today for a brainstorming session, and it became clear alarmingly quickly that next Friday evening I will be wearing my Australian flag socks, singing Waltzing Matilda and making various Dad-jokes about shrimp and barbies and flamin' galahs in front of a crowd of bemused English people. I'm not ashamed of my country. I AM frustrated and uninspired by the inevitability of the ideas that are thrown around in such circumstances, but given that I have no desire to take charge and actually commit myself to making this into something better I've none but myself to blame.
The last thing the English need is for all their stereotypes to be reinforced, but by crikey, it's what they'll get. I am cringing on the inside, but I understand that this is the price I must pay for my tenure here: ‘ooh, look at the colonials do their funny little dance!’
(Screw you, English person.)
I'm actually not as grinch-like as I might seem. My chief contribution will be to hand out a plate of lamingtons. Also, one of my Australian workmates has offered to dress as Steve Irwin and dance a passionate, heart-wrenching pas de deux with a stingray, to the tune of a yet-to-be-determined-but-obviously-cheesy Ozrock ballad. Now THAT I’m looking forward to.
The organisation I work for has recently employed a significantly large number of Australians (myself included) (obviously). We have been instructed to perform something 'authentically Australian' at a benefit concert for a children's charity to be hosted by our organisation in two weeks' time. While I realise that it does seem as though ‘unapologetic showpony’ is my default setting I am not, in fact, particularly enthusiastic about performing humiliatingly lame acts at work functions. However, because this is a charity concert, one must join in or one is accused of hating the children. And I don't hate the children.
The Australian staff contingent assembled at lunchtime today for a brainstorming session, and it became clear alarmingly quickly that next Friday evening I will be wearing my Australian flag socks, singing Waltzing Matilda and making various Dad-jokes about shrimp and barbies and flamin' galahs in front of a crowd of bemused English people. I'm not ashamed of my country. I AM frustrated and uninspired by the inevitability of the ideas that are thrown around in such circumstances, but given that I have no desire to take charge and actually commit myself to making this into something better I've none but myself to blame.
The last thing the English need is for all their stereotypes to be reinforced, but by crikey, it's what they'll get. I am cringing on the inside, but I understand that this is the price I must pay for my tenure here: ‘ooh, look at the colonials do their funny little dance!’
(Screw you, English person.)
I'm actually not as grinch-like as I might seem. My chief contribution will be to hand out a plate of lamingtons. Also, one of my Australian workmates has offered to dress as Steve Irwin and dance a passionate, heart-wrenching pas de deux with a stingray, to the tune of a yet-to-be-determined-but-obviously-cheesy Ozrock ballad. Now THAT I’m looking forward to.
posted by jLo at 10:10 PM
4 Comments:
1. You own Aussie flag socks?
2. How about "Flame Trees"? It's pure Oz Rock (well, except that Jimmy Barnes is a Brit).
J, the. We gave jLo the socks. Remember all that thought we put into the survival kit? And indeed, jLo, it seems to be helping you survive- wear those socks pulled up (even better, wear them with 'flip flops') and do us proud!
I think you should eat lamingtons - in the style of Ron Boswell
J,The: as Mazza has pointed out, you gave me the socks. They're very awesome. Flame Trees is the PERFECT SUGGESTION, I will put it to the organising committee today.
Mazza: flag socks + flip flops, you're onto something there. That would truly demonstrate my commitment to the children.
Eleri: I'm reading this at work and just BUST OUT LAUGHING - my facade of professionalism has been shattered. Excellent call.
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