My Mother Tongue

True Blue Aussie My Mother TongueSome 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!

5 thoughts on “My Mother Tongue”

  1. 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!

  2. 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 :)

    1. 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!

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