foreign relations

Alot of Australians do feel bad, it’s true, about how the Civil War that followed the Great Dingo Disaster of 1908, just before the infamous Emu War, resulted in all the German speaking aboriginals getting on dugout canoes and paddling (obviously by means of some kind of mystical shamanistic woo) all the way to central Europe where they actually time-travelled back several centuries and founded a massive Central European Empire.

Whereas we, on the other hand, just had lamingtons and outdoor dunnies right up until the 1970s.

We’ve approached the Austrians a few times to test the water about burying the hatchet and putting the “al” back into Austria (yes, the desire to deport Al Grassby was a major motivation for several years among the bastard boys of the Labor Party’s NSW Right but Al refused to go on the grounds that he is of Italian descent).

The Austrian reaction was… well, there was a bit of a Teutonic chill in the air and our PM of the time barely got out without getting a big alpenhorn inserted somewhere painful.

I am thinking it might take a few more years of pretending we like Mozart and Strauss and eating more Schnitzel before we can begin to melt the stony heart of Austria and convince them that bygones are bygones.

What do you say Austria? Aren’t we better together? I know we’ve had our differences and poisoning the dingoes with artisanally crafted Mozart Pralinchen was….yes, it was disrespectful and wrong, we admit it. I know we used to make fun of your accent and that was wrong. We were younger and foolish back then and didn’t know how to express ourselves properly. You were so cool and kind of hot with your blond hair and natty Alpine hats, I know it seems stupid now, but we were just trying to get your attention. In our clumsy, cack-handed way, we just wanted you to like us.

Please come back Austria! We’re nothing without you and, if you are honest, don’t you miss the koalas and barbies? Rubbing vegemite on wombats and mad larrikin kangaroo rides down Dandenong Road at midnight, the wind in your hair, not a care in the world, maybe suddenly noticing the shy gleam in our Aussie eye, the mood suddenly taking on a note of seriousness as the whole night was suddenly charged with a thrilling frisson of tension, a throbbing, overwhelming sense of suppressed need and yearning? Don’t you remember that one night of passion under the gum trees on the banks of the Murray River? So young, so impetuous. I know you had your regrets and we’ve never spoken of that night since but,

did it really mean nothing to you?