Sunday Roast - Sunday Telegraph
Sunday Magazine April 25 2004
BUY A DIGGER A BEER
Make a toast to mateship and have a lucky toss at two-up
this Anzac Day, says funnyman Wil Anderson
The Australian government has banned troops from visiting Gallipoli this Anzac Day, saying it might be too dangerous. Is it just me, or does this warning seem 89 years too late? What's next from the good folk down at the Department of Foreign Affairs? A memo to assassinated US president JFK telling him to duck, or a fax to drowned Aussie prime minister Harold Holt reminding him to pack some floaties?
Before letters to the editor start to flood in, I want to make it clear I'm not making fun of Anzac Day, far from it. I'd rather stand in the middle of a crowded pub and say cricketer Don Bradman couldn't bat, bushranger Ned Kelly had hat hair and Melbourne Cup winner Phar Lap was a dud horse from New Zealand, than take the piss out of our proudest of national days. I'd rather walk up to Osama Bin Laden and say, "Hey, I loved you in ZZ Top", than have a crack at an Anzac. I'd rather tell Russell Crowe his band is 30 Odd Foot of Crap than have a dig at the diggers.
Let's face it, while even explorer Dick Smith, crocodile man Steve Irwin and Aussie battler Big Kev find it hard to fake some patriotic excitement about Australia Day, people take Anzac Day very, very seriously.
There's no better example of this than the furore that erupted recently when the Returned & Services League of Australia (RSL) announced the release of a series of commemorative items containing sand from Gallipoli (in Turkey). I think it's a wonderful idea. Not only is it a great reminder of our history and a fundraiser for the RSL's great community work, but I think the diggers would like the idea that we're finally taking the beach, even if it is one shovel at a time.
In fact, we should go one step further. Why don't we set up a sand exchange program? For every bucket of Gallipoli sand they send us, we'll send them a bucket from St Kilda beach, filled with syringes, condoms and unemployed cast members from axed TV drama The Secret Life of Us.
Of most concern was the disturbing report claiming almost half our current troops are dabbling in recreational drugs, which gives a whole new meaning to the term "joint exercise".
While I'm certainly no wowser, I'm not sure I want my armed forces puffing on a bong of mass destruction. General Green and Private Pothead would be meant to report for war, but forget to turn up because there was a particularly interesting episode of Jerry Springer on TV.
The only way you'd be able to get them interested in war is if you told them the enemy ate the last Tim-Tam, or if they went to Gallipoli they'd find Anzac biscuits and Turkish delight.
All the weapons controllers would have to have the same configuration as PlayStation2, "Okay, so 'fire' is triangle, triangle, circle", and they would only take orders from a colonel if that colonel had a bucket of chicken with chips and gravy.
If, instead of marijuana, they're taking acid, it's certainly going to make that scene from the Gallipoli movie a lot more interesting. "What are your legs? Steel springs... No, purple dragons!", "Expand my mind until I realise we're all one consciousness and thus war is futile!"
Or maybe we could give them all ecstasy and there would be no war at all, just a whole lot of hugging. The only danger would be falling victim to really, really friendly fire. But I digress.
Australians love Anzac Day. And it's not just because we get a public holiday (although there are probably a few people a little peeved we won the last war in Iraq and didn't get any days off). And it's not just because we get to celebrate it by drinking cheap beer and indulging in illegal gambling (although that's a bonus). We love it because it seems to sum up all the good qualities we like to associate with our country: mateship, the under-dog, and never, ever taking directions off Poms.
So feel proud to celebrate Anzac Day today. If you can, take the time to pop down to your local RSL, play some two-up and buy a digger a beer. Just don't sand too close to him at the urinal later, his aim probably isn't quite as good as it was in the war, and you don't want your shoes to be a victim on friendly fire. Lest we forget.
Tune in next week for another Sunday Roast from Wil, who is also a
co-presenter (with Dave Hughes and Corinne Grant) on ABC TV's The Glass
House and host of Triple J's The Brekkie Show
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