“By far and away the most popular colloquial expression? As dry as a dead dingo’s donger”

Look it up: but you won’t find many of these idioms in a dictionary

What follows is a readers’ digest – your suggestions on slang, rhyming slang and sundry vulgarisms. Thank you for your scholarly response to my request for help – though I must express shock at the number of suggestions that are too vulgar to print. You know who you are. Go stand in the corner.

By far and away the most popular colloquial expression? As dry as a dead dingo’s donger. Many hundreds of votes suggesting a thirst of drought-stricken dimensions intensified by climate change. (Poor country? If you had two goannas you’d have to lot feed one. The place is so dry the crows fly backwards to keep the dust out of their eyes. Good country? So good if you plant a feather you’d grow a chook.)

Impossible to catalogue the thousand others – so let her rip with some of my favourites. Casablanca: wanker.Mahatma Gandhi: brandy. Gunga Din: gin. King Lear: beer. Mozart and Lizt: pissed. If You See Kay: self-explanatory. Bachelor’s handbag: a cooked chook from Woolies. Pensioner’s piano: a poker machine.

Couldn’t organise a rock fight in a quarry – or a chook raffle in a country pub. Wouldn’t shout in a shark attack. And the “she’s so ugly” cluster of sayings – she’s so ugly even the tide at Bondi wouldn’t take her out. If your brains were elastic they wouldn’t make a garter for a peewee.

A copper pulls a driver over. “You’re Adrian Quist!” “If not I’m going to sue the publican.” Some drink from the fountain of knowledge – he only gargled. Got a head on him like a toilet brush. So thin that if he drank some red he’d look like a thermometer. So thin he’s got to walk around in the shower to get wet. His IQ’s the same as his shoe size. Or hat size. So fat he’s got his own postcode.

As useful as an ashtray on a motorbike. As useful as a fob pocket on a singlet. As useless as a plough upstairs. Mouth like a vandalised graveyard. How would I know – I’m not Mandrake’s mother. Away with the fairies. Full as a goog. Knee-high to a grasshopper. Happy as Larry. Thick as two planks. If he ever had a thought it’d be lonely. Slow as a wet week. Wouldn’t be dead for quids. Blind as a welder’s kelpie. Clear as mud. Strong as a Mallee bull. The wind would blow a dog off a chain. As toey as a Roman sandal. As common as bums. Crook as Rookwood. You’re as slow as the Second Coming. You’ve got two chances – Buckley’s and none.

There and back to see how far it is. Ducks and geese: police. So dishonest he’d steal Christ from the cross – then come back and nick the nails. Like drinking tea with a fork. In like Flynn. More shags than Warnie. Couldn’t work in an iron lung. In more trouble than Ned Kelly. More comebacks than Nellie Melba. Sex, Bex and XXXX – a Queenslander’s breakfast. Getting off at Redfern: like Vatican roulette, a risky form of contraception.

No time for a tub so just an APC – armpits and crotch. Couldn’t find a bum in a nudist colony. Wouldn’t know if the Town Hall fell on him a brick at a time. He’s got tickets on himself. Little Aussie bleeder. Silly duffer. As much fun as an undertaker’s picnic. That’ll go down like a wrought-iron hang-glider.

I’m buggered. See yers later.