Some of you may know that I’m an Aussie.
Albeit dropped head first into living in Switzerland nearly twenty years ago. While life is just bliss, the one thing I miss is speaking (and writing) in my mother language. Ocker! Just in case you get lost once I change my language into Ocker, or Strine as it is better known, here’s a handy Aussie dictionary to help you out if you get lost.
Strewth Mate! From the time I took a Captain Cook at Switzerland I thought, ‘You bloody ripper’. Just a quick squizz at The Alps and I was stoked! The tinnies were just as good as back in Oz too and the plonk was even better. It did take me a while to nut out the lingo, but speaking Frog is a piece of piss once I got my gob around it.
Now coming from the ‘Coat Hanger’ city in Oz, the big smokes of Switzerland seemed a bit piddly but I just thought, why not give ’em a whirl. Being fair dinkum, and True Blue, I didn’t want to appear figjam, so I kept my gob shut and meat pies open and learnt the ropes. I made a few blues, but no one seemed to think I was a drongo.
My first big discovery were mystery bags. Bloody rippers and even better than the ones back home I used to cook for my ankle biters. No porkies, the snags back home don’t come within cooee of these snags. And brekkie isn’t bad either. I was grinning like a shot fox at the sight of the grub they have here. Better than a dingo’s breakfast back home.
I spat the dummie a few times, but my trouble and strife calmed me down and told me I was London to a brick on to settle down like a pig in poop in Europe. I did feel like a fruit loop a few times, but with the Cook’s help it’s been a doddle. I’ll be stuffed if I’m not the whole hog Swiss now! The only things I miss are utes, footy, middies and Sat’dy arvo at the cricket.
Then there are the sheilas! Real lookers. Being from the back of Burke, I didn’t want to look like a dag, but bloody hell they are great eye food. Dead set! Finding a pozzy on a terrace close to the frog and toad and having a perve is better than sitting in Woop Woop admiring bloody ships of the desert while munching on a cold dog’s eye and dead horse!. The trouble and strife doesn’t mind too much. She knows I’m a bit of a hoon at heart and am really more interested in the coldies anyway.
So I might be a Claytons Swiss, but I gotta tell ya cobber, for a Sandgroper I’m lairing it up and having a rip snorter of a time. No worries Mate!
You beuwdy! :D
Derek, I love it! I had to make a copy to put with my other notes on Aussie slang, which I researched for a character in that book I’ve never finished! Your examples are better than anything else I’ve found (I ‘ve used KoalaNet, by the way). Of course, there’s Buckley’s chance that I could understand all of what you said, but with a little bit of study, Bob’s yer uncle!
I love it! I think we American’s need a glossary though… ~A.
You can’t come from the Coathanger and be a Sandgroper too. Sandgropers are from WA – like me :) These are all well chosen words, except nobody really uses the rhyming slang. As for words like “doddle” and “piddly” and “grub”, these are so ingrained in coloquial language, I didn’t even realise they were Australian. This post gave me a huge laugh. Cheers mate :)
I’m a bit of a mongrel Corey. Born a Sandgroper. Then transported over the border with the Croweaters for a few years before finally becoming a Sydneysider. Or as my Bananabender mates called me then, a cockroach. All better than being a Vic though!