Strike me rotten! The best Aussie slang

Paul Hogan would approve.

Ages ago I started a Society for the Protection of Australian Slang to ward off the onslaught of Americanisms. Clearly it was a total failure. So over the break I asked readers for favourite examples of Australian slang and rhyming slang – plus sundry colloquialisms and vulgarisms.

First cab off the rank was the extraordinary expression “a wigwam for a goose’s bridle”. Was it one of ours? And what could it possibly mean? In a sense it is meaningless, a term for something absurd. My researches discovered its origin was English but it gained currency in Australia from 1917. We were off to a flying start.

Many people liked drongo, an Australianism for fool or dill. (And yes, dill is also one of ours.) I’ve always found drongo the most delightful of derogative terms because it contains a hint of affection. Quite a few vulgarisms were, I suspect, coined by Barry Humphries for our charming fillum The Adventures of Barry McKenzie, including “I hope your chooks turn to emus and kick your dunny down” and “Go and stick your head up a dead bear’s bum”. In Bruce Beresford’s subtitled print of the film for British audiences, the latter became “Thrust your cranium up the sphincter of a deceased bruin”.

Barry Humphries as Sir Les Patterson.

Now to a random selection proffered by the public. And share with me a sense of loss that so many have been shoved aside by less poetic US imports. Any Dylan Thomas would be proud of their poetic imagery and rhythm.

Flat as a shit-carter’s hat. Flat out like a lizard drinking. Better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick. I’m so hungry I could bite the arse out of a low-flying duck. Silly as a hatful of handshakes. Couldn’t pull the skin off a custard. Full as a state school hat rack. A few roos loose in the top paddock. A head like a half-sucked aniseed ball. A head like a robber’s dog. About as useful as a chocolate teapot. Wouldn’t know a tram was up him until the conductor rang the bell. I’ll have your guts for garters. Whatyamacallit. You thought wrong. Couldn’t raffle a duck in a country pub. Couldn’t organise a piss-up in a brewery. You’re getting on my quince. Running around like a blue-arsed fly. Face like the northern end of a southbound camel. Face like a kicked-in kero tin. Don’t come the raw prawn with me. He was all over me like a rash. Dry as a pommy’s towel. Wouldn’t shout if a shark bit him. Happy as a bastard on Father’s Day. Donkey’s years, yonkey’s years, yonks. Stone the crows. Strike me rotten. Couldn’t fight his way out of a wet paper bag. He’s been doin’ that since Jesus played full back for Jerusalem. Rattle your dags. Busier than a one-armed brickie in Beirut. Mad as a box of frogs. As flash as a rat with a gold tooth. Needs a good kick up the klacker. As useless as a ten bob watch. The drover’s brekkie: a fart and a cigarette. Got the good clobber on.

Haven’t the space for the richness of rhyming slang – a proud tradition we seem to have inherited from the Cockneys. Another wonderful realm of verbal creativity (eg, after dark for shark, Jimmy Dancer for cancer). Or to list the long list of long lost words. But if you’d like to add to this scholarly collection, write to me at [e-mail] and we might run a sequel. See yers later.