England Strikes Back

Hello ScoFans!

For those of you who missed it, PickNic asked me to write a guest post for her which was posted at her blog yesterday. It was a lot of fun and I thank Nic again for giving me the opportunity to entertain the Nicolytes.

Now, for those of you who haven't read the post, click the link above and travel there now. I took the opportunity to write a letter to the Motherland (England), and I may have been a little not nice to them (but it was all in fun)

However, all in fun or not what kind of a person would I be if I didn't give England the opportunity to reply? I think it's only fair. So now, all the way from England, Nic responds to my post...


G'day Mates!

How are things Down Under? Incidentally, how does it feel to be standing upside down your whole life? Don't you get a head rush?

This letter is a response to the one your beloved ScoMan sent to my country. That's England, by the way, for those of you who don't know. So let me start by responding to some of the issues he addressed in his letter.

Firstly...yeah, we're shit at cricket. But so what? If it wasn't for us you wouldn't even have it. We invented the damn game so surely we can play it how we like! And football, we invented that too. Real football. What the hell is 'Aussie Rules Football'? What, you couldn't grasp the actual rules so you made up your own? Do it properly, for Heaven's sake!

And so what if we can't be bothered to have sex all the time? Ok, we may not be able to claim to have invented that, and maybe we do just prefer to have a nice cup of tea and a sit down now and then. But when we bother to do it, we're good at it. Unfortunately I couldn't find anything online to back this statement up, but according to a recent survey (by me) among English women (my friends), British men are the best in the world when it comes to getting jiggy with it. Admittedly, most of us have only slept with British men, but that's not the point. We enjoyed it. For the most part.

Anyway, you love us really. You can't get enough of us. You even use our flag to make up part of yours. So every time you look at it you're reminded that you used to be British. And probably wish you still were.

So you may have better weather and sit around on the beach all day wearing those hats with the corks hanging down while playing a digeridoo, drinking Fosters and cooking shrimps on the barbie (ok, I know that's just a stereotype). But you have to celebrate Christmas during the summer and that's just plain weird. What the hell does Santa wear over there? Shorts and flip-flops? Does he arrive on a surfboard? And the carols...you can't be singing Let it Snow. I'm guessing the weather outside is far from frightful.

And you know what else? You've got some strange animals down there. A duck-billed platypus? What the hell is that thing? It looks like it's come straight out the pages of a fantasy novel. And I wouldn't like to have to check under the bed for stray possums every night before I went to sleep. You've got kangaroos that kick the shit out of each other and creatures that'll kill you as soon as look at you. Deadly snakes and spiders, scorpions, crocodiles, the lot. Even the cute, innocent-looking koalas have chlamydia.

And all those sheep...oh wait, that's New Zealand, not Australia. Not that there's any difference. And that's probably the most offensive thing I've said in the whole of this letter, so I think I'll just stop typing now.