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Ozspeak
 So now heaps of you blow-ins who can't speak 'Strine are cummin' to Steak 'n' Kidney for the Games, dunkin' yer tucker in sauce and never takin' yer shout. Well, strike me pink if I don't stand up and barrack.
Here's the good oil: These bloody Games have been shadier than a rat with a parasol. Nothin' but whingin' and bluin' since we got 'em. Not to chuck a wobbly, but I hope the whole shonky mess goes down the gurgler.
First, the journos dob in the pols on that tickie rort. Turns out those bludgers were floggin' the pick of the tix to their mates from the big end of town and leavin' the bits to us nongs. The nobs got a bucketing. Still, more than a million tix are goin' beggin'! That's big bikkies!
Then there's Bondi Beach, which is a ripper place to see spunks starkers and sneak a gargle or two from a tinnie. Those no-hopers turned it into a kinuglee vollie stadium! Not only that, but the shells there'll cut up the ponces' plates of meat! Who's the drongo runnin' this circus?
Then there are the shark biscuits, the banana bender whose noggin showed up in the guts of a mega potato coddie last week (No furphy! It's the ridgy-didge!), the trains that keep goin' troppo and the dodgy baggage system at Kingsford Smith that's as useless as a pocket on a singlet.
The athletes' village is not only next to the guests of Her Majesty, but it's also chips -- no couches, just plastic furniture. The journo center is an old unpainted cattle pen. Oh, and not to earbash, but I'd wear yer warm clobber. It can be colder than a dead Tazzie's dodger in July. Plus, we've had southerly busters lately, which ought to be fun for the chuckers, eh? Say, mate, is that my javelin stickin' out yer arse?
Goodonyer for comin', but, fair dinkum, this dog's breakfast has Buckley's chance. When it's over and the Games've come a gutser, we know all these big-noters will disappear like rats up a drainpipe and leave us without a brass razoo.
The Games were supposed to be a pearler. Bushwah. If it's rainin' palaces, we just got hit by the dunny door. |
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English Translation
Apparently, many of you foreigners who aren't familiar with the Australian dialect will be arriving in Sydney for the Olympic Games, slathering your food in ketchup and never buying a round of beers at the pub. Well, pardon me if I don't stand up and cheer.
Here's the news: These darn Games have been somewhat controversial. Lots of complaining and arguing since we got them. Not to overreact, but I hope the whole fraudulent mess goes down the toilet.
First, the media squealed on Olympic officials and politicians over a ticket scam. Apparently, those lazy good-for-nothings were selling the best of the tickets to VIPs and leaving the rest for ordinary citizens. Said officials were severely criticized. Still, 1.25 million tickets remain unsold. That's a lot of money!
Then there's Bondi Beach, which is a fine place to see attractive, nude sunbathers and enjoy sips of canned beer. The officials built an unattractive volleyball stadium there, even though shell fragments might cut athletes' feet. Which knucklehead is in charge?
Then there was the spate of sharks attacking boaters and swimmers, the man from north Queensland whose head was found in the stomach of a giant grouper (That's not a myth! It's the truth!), the trains that keep derailing and the malfunctioning airport baggage system, which is of little use.
The athletes' village is not only next to a prison, but it's also parsimoniously appointed -- no sofas, just plastic furniture. The media center is a converted cattle pavilion and will not be painted. And not to speak too long, but wear warm clothes. It can be colder than a deceased Tasmanian man's private parts in midwinter. We've had fierce winds lately, which ought to be fun for the javelin competitors, yes? Excuse me, friend, is that my javelin protruding from your behind?
Good for you for coming, but, honestly, this mess of an Olympics doesn't have good prospects for succeeding. After the Games have failed, we know the officials will leave quickly, and we'll be left with only the bills.
We were told these Olympics would be wonderful. Hardly. If it's raining palaces, we just got hit by the outhouse door.
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