Spot the Aussie
‘Hey, look who’s back!’ said Noel, as Keith walked into the pub. 'How was the trip?’
‘Yeah, orright, Oh guess. Talk about spot the Aussie!’ said Keith as he sat down next to his mate at the bar. ‘How about a VB?’ he said to the bartender.
‘Didn’t try ta pull a fast one on ya, did they?’ asked Noel.
‘Nah, mate. But Oh reckon they knew Oh was onto ‘em.’
‘Still. Ya don’t know what they’re hiding under those bushy beards o’ theirs. Knives? Explosives? Who knows? All ya know is halfa them’re terrorists.’
‘Yeah. Should be a law ‘gainst beards like that,’ said Keith.
‘But what really gets me,’ said Noel as they drank their beers, ‘is ‘ow they get ter bludge of taxpayers money, just ‘cause they reckon they were here first. An’ ya know they just spend it all on grog.’
‘If ya ask me,’ said the bartender, ‘they should be all lined up against the wall an’ shot.’
‘Gee,’ said Noel. ‘Don’t ya reckon that’s a bit harsh?’
‘Nup,’ said the bartender, defiantly. ‘An’ if ya don’t like it, ya can find yerself another pub.’
‘Ease up, mate,’ said Keith.
They finished their beers in silence.
‘Oh remember when Oh was little,’ said Noel, ‘an’ Oh put a five dollar coin in me mouth. An mum said, “Spit that out! An Angloman might’ve touched it!” So Oh spat it out.’
‘What would an Angloman be doin’ with a five dollar coin?’ said Keith.
‘Oh dunno.’