The Courier-Mail’s Baz McAlister’s guide to surviving Brisbane for British and Irish Lions fans
The birds are loud and angry, crossing the road is a full-contact sport, and booze is a tad complicated. So if you’re a Pom or a Paddy here for the rugby, here’s my top tips, writes Baz McAlister.
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The Courier-Mail’s Baz McAlister moved from Ireland to Brisbane 20 years ago. If you’re a pom or a paddy in town for the rugby, he shares some vital pointers for navigating the Queensland capital.
Flat white or flat wrong
Forget cappuccinos, lattes, and all the rest. In Brisbane, the flat white is king (and Queensland claims to have invented it). Casually order one in your cute Old Dart accent, and watch your barista swoon. Do not ask for tea under any circumstances. You’ll get a sad afterthought of a herbal concoction that tastes like Willie John McBride’s post-match bathwater.
The birds are loud, angry, and weird
Oh, so your little Essex backyard songbirds are cute? Think you know how to protect your takeaway from a Blackpool seagull? Well, this is next-level. Never mind the snakes and spiders, birds are year-round menaces in Brisbane. Magpies are unhinged kamikazes. Strutting bin chickens run the streets and you’ll pay them protection money in chips. Kookaburras laugh mercilessly at your hangover. Curlews will hunt you down and go avian John Wick on you. Maintain eye contact. Show no fear.
Crossing the road is a full-contact sport
Jaywalking is technically illegal, but that doesn’t stop the locals. But before you join in, consider this: Brisbane drivers are insane, and in Queensland, the road markings become invisible at night or in the rain. Wait for the pedestrian crossings to emit the pew pew laser gun noise before you step on the tarmac, or risk getting aggressively tackled by a two-ton metal fullback.
Embrace the local cuisine
There’s no bangers and mash down the local ‘Spoons here. If you want to hook into the local pub grub, check the A-frame signs for somewhere advertising the local delicacy: Parmy Night or Schnitty Night. A crispy chicken breast, often so deep-fried that it can legally be considered a weapon, with or without toppings. And despite anything you may have heard recently about the local fungi, there’s really nothing to fear. Have the mushroom sauce.
Please check in on Sean, Connor and Aidan
This might be Australia, but Brisbane’s a lot more Irish than you think it is. In fact, Brisbane was built by the Irish. Twice. Irish convicts started the job, but Irish economic refugees are finishing it. Stop by the local construction site, it’s full of all your mates who fled the country after the Celtic Tiger crashed and never came back. Say hi from their poor mammies to them.
Respect the Brown Snake
Yes, it’s warmer here in winter than it is in your summer. Yes, it’s sunny. But sorry, our fake city-centre beach is currently broken, and we need you to know that the Brisbane River is not for taking a leisurely dip in. There are hordes of toothy monsters writhing around down there that would make Steven Spielberg turn white as a sheet. Stick to the hotel pool.
Booze is a bit complicated
Not every Brisbane hostelry will pull you a pint. Some of them work in schooners. A schooner is not, like, the Cutty Sark or whatever - it’s 74.6% of a pint. Why is it called a schooner? Unknown, but it’s probably to do with you being three sheets to the wind. Don’t worry about it, mate. Hold the schooner, just pretend it’s a pint and you’re a giant like Ollie Chessum, and try to forget that you’ve paid more for it than you would’ve for a pint back home.
Fortitude Valley by night is a jungle
Brisbane has an allegedly ‘Safe Night Precinct’ that makes Dublin’s Temple Bar look like a kids’ soft play area. There are a few little islands of cosmopolitan bonhomie in the Valley, but its rum-spattered streets can get a bit lairy in the wee hours of the weekend. It’s unknown what adding 40,000 drunk post-match Brits and Irish into the mix will do, but University of Queensland sociology researchers are poised to study the outcome.
It’s 50c to go anywhere on the train
Yes, it’s 50c to go anywhere on the train, or bus, or ferry. Yes, pretty much anywhere. Yes, 50c. Yes, that’s about 2000 per cent cheaper than you’re used to. Yes, it’s really 50c to go anywhere on the train! Yes, really. No, nobody back home will believe you. No, I can’t believe it either.
Liaising with the locals
Australians are famously laid-back until sport is involved, and then the world-class insults start flying. “Sledging” isn’t a children’s snow sport - in Australia, it’s a verbal martial art. The usually affable Brisbanites will ask “How ya goin?” and smile at you in the streets, but once they pass through the gates of Suncorp Stadium, they morph into rabid Wallabies fans who will spit viper venom about your parentage, your haircut, your hometown and your sexual proclivities. You have two options: just sip your XXXX, or start yelling XXXX back.
Originally published as The Courier-Mail’s Baz McAlister’s guide to surviving Brisbane for British and Irish Lions fans
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