Australia can be described in a simple 4-letter word: see you next Tuesday.
(I can’t count)
Actually, Australia can be summed up in this sentence: cunt.
(Why am I a writer?)
Yes, Oz is a cunt. A big, fat, cunty cunt. A beautiful cunt. The cunt of cunts. Shit cunt and good cunt. All the cunts.
Now that you are used to the word ‘cunt’ you are able to learn more about why Australia is one:
I lived in Sydney, Australia for 2.5 years. I am unable to explain the beauty of it, the vastness of the land, and the persistency of near death. Seriously, this place wants you dead.
First of all, Australia can fuck off with those spiders. I can’t count on a huntsman’s eight legs how many times I woke up with those fuckers staring at me in my bedroom. I’m talking about dinner-plate sized pieces of shit that dwell in your living nightmares for eternity. A huntsman once laid eggs in our bathroom ceiling and we woke one morning to find that our bathroom was an orgy of horrifying demon babies spawned from the depths of hell. After we bug bombed the shit out of the bathroom and cleaned up the war zone of dead baby spiders we still were finding living ones every day for about 2 months.
My neighbour had to be hospitalised three times in one summer for being bitten by a white-tailed spider. She had to get skin grafts. Mother. Fucking. Skin. Grafts.
Lets not talk about the redback spider that was crawling nonchalantly through my friend’s FUCKING HAIR at a party. I told him not to panic but then I panicked. People had to calm me. We didn’t notice where the spider went. It was mayhem.
Or the family of redbacks I found in my backyard with my housemate. Yeah, I became a non-smoker for about a week.
Did I also mention the time I was chased by a MOTHER FUCKING BAT!? I’m not talking about the cute bats that sometimes wander into your home while you freak out trying to throw a towel over them – I’m talking wingspans of 3 feet here. They’re literal foxes with wings. Well, I was face to face with this mother fucker as he rested on a very low branch. I screamed. It screamed. It flew. I ran. It chased me down the street.
Do you remember the beginning of the movie Jumanji when the girl is chased down the street by bats?
The part that gave you nightmares for weeks?
Yeah, me IRL.
“But what about the cute animals?” You ask. No, just no.
I witnessed a little possum hiss at me with the force of 27 satans.
Wombats? Yeah, my friend and I hit one while driving. Dented the fuck out of his vehicle.
Birds seem harmless, right?
Someone in my bus tour through Cairns nearly got attacked by a fucking CASSOWARY! Those cunts look like dinosaurs and will slice you open like french bread.
You’ll hear the cockatoos coming from 100 kilometres away and you’ll pray to god himself they don’t get too close and make you go permanently deaf.
Kookaburra’s are nice tho. 10/10.
But the pelican’s will try and eat your baby whole.
Kangaroos? They’ll kick ya.
Wanna die by a heap of brainless jellyfish? Just take a short dip in the cool refreshing death of ocean.
The green ants work together to build amazing structures and bring death to you and your family.
Even the plants-THE FUCKING PLANTS– may kill you.
*Cue Mark Wahlberg touching a synthetic plant and someone running themselves over with a lawn mower in The Happening.*
I’m lucky to have lived through all these traumatic experiences. It makes me appreciate why Aussies are such hard cunts. I feel like an Australian who makes it to 20 years old should win a lifetime achievement award for not getting their eyes pecked out by a magpie.
Despite all these grievances, I still rate Australia highly. If you’ve never been, then I can’t recommend it enough. Surviving Australia should be on everyones bucket list. Ill never forget it, and I can’t wait to go back.
Ill see ya next Tuesday, Australia! (But not really because Australia is expensive as fuck.)