I dunno why the Ozzies left Britland. Oh, that’s right – we made them.
Look what you’re missing in the old mother country…
We believe that Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday are all good nights for drinking. Sunday daytime is also entirely reasonable.
We’re always half an hour late to work … no-one notices or cares.
Coming to work with a hangover is entirely accepted and indeed expected at least once a week.
We step over a drunk in the tube station rather than offering to help them.
We don’t even bother looking out of the window when we get up in the morning to check what the day is like. We know it is overcast.
We dissolve in laughter when listening to the funny accent of the Aussie international telephone operator (or on TV!). Of course, we don’t have funny accents (unless from Liverpool, Newcastle, Scotland, Wales, Cornwall…)
We can’t remember what ‘customer service’ means.
After a big night we you find ourselves looking for a Curry house
More than three hours sunlight on summer days seems excessive.
We don’t think twice about tipping our hairdresser
We finish every sentence with ‘Cheers’, ‘Yeah’, or ‘Innit’.
We only just realise we have lost our sunglasses, having left them in Greece 2 summers ago.
We’re on our 6th umbrella this year
We bought a disposable baby BBQ from Tesco, and stored it in the garage.
A day at the beach means wearing the warmest clothes we own while standing on golf ball-size pebbles and the thought of swimming doesn’t even enter our head.
We always call soccer football and we have a team and it’s not Manchester United.
We don’t think twice about buying a packaged sandwich.
A sunny lunchtime means searching for a patch of grass and stripping off practically down to our underwear
We’ve accepted queuing as a way of life.
We think there is nothing wrong with France that a spate of neutron bombs wouldn’t put right.