Postcard from Colonia

(Note: this was written in March 2003, during the attack on Iraq, but since Australia still positions herself as Chief Clagnut of the US - as you can see here, or here, or indeed here - I thought this still appropriate)

Dear Friends,

just a quick note to say I'm fine and how much I'm enjoying my holiday here in Colonia! Yes, I know, it came as a surprise to me as well, but all of a sudden the offer was there: how 'bout a holiday in Colonia, y'all? And who can say NO to this? A travel group was quickly formed (all 19 million of us) and our fearless tour guide John Winston Howard led us intrepid travellers to Colonia which, for those of you who are a bit shaky on the geography and haven't yet heard of this secret little hideaway, is located a fair way up the American Arse. Granted, there was a bit of tension in our tour group at first. Some preferred to go up the stylish French Maison Derriere, whilst others really wanted to see the harsh, brooding beauty of the German Arschland. But in the end tour Führer Howard convinced us that we really should go up the American Arse, and the only thing riotous was the acclaim for our troops (which had been forward-deployed to clear the way for us and secure accomodation).

Everyone's really excited - it makes a nice change for all to go up the American Arse. My fellow Australian travel mates are glad not to be spending yet another holiday up the grand old aristocratic British Botty (which is where Howard usually wants everyone to go), and, being a Continental European, I usually spend my spare time, as we all know, up my own arse, so it's a pleasant change of scenery for everyone.

We're staying in a lovely, huge log cabin (which, incidentally, was produced by the combined casts of FRIENDS, SEX AND THE CITY and CHARMED) with a charming view of Bulgaria and several other small Eastern European countries just on the other side of the Fizzy Gravy river. The American Arse is chockful of people - everyone wants to be here! It's the happening place, so you better hurry and jump on this floater - first in, first served with Iraq-rebuilding contracts! There's heaps of Pommies, too (apparently their elites have permanent residency here) and we relish the opportunity of us and the Poms finally spending our time up someone else's arse together, instead of us Aussies always only spending time up their's. But of course there are the eternal whingers and malcontents, grumbling something about "like Russian Dolls - we're up the Poms and they're up the Yanks" or something. But we kill them and burn them on the lawns.

And there's about 327 million Americans here up the American Arse as well! Apparently, this is where most of them spend their hols, and they're a delightful bunch. Not a day goes by without them complimenting us on how "it's great to see you Austrians speak such good English". I especially love them patting me on the head and tickling me behind my ears, cooing: "Good Boy! Good Boy! Sit! Roll over! Now beg!!!" They're lovely people. And the nice, well-informed letters they write to us, thanking us for coming up the American Arse. Makes our Australian bosoms cringe with largesse!
At night, we throw a few kernels of sweetcorn on the barbie and listen to John tell us his funny, side-splitting stories. He makes up new ones every night and he's soo hilarious, tears run down our cheeks. The best one so far was the one about, get this, how we're all here because it's in our "National Interest" (priceless eh?), and how, if Indonesia ever invaded Australia (hahaha, is the guy a card or what?), then we would have to rely on America who would surely rush to our help double-quick... Have to stop here, can't write for laughing, the guy is killing us in our seats.

And everything's so cheap here! You can get the lifting of a minor trade sanction for just your national sovereignty; a small-volume rebuilding contract for Iraq's public amenities costs you merely your good reputation in the international community; and best of all (and I can't believe this, it's sooo cheap!) you can get a time-share appartment in a charming New York brownstone here up the American Arse for just your self-respect and personal security when travelling!! Is this, like, cool, or what? For years I thought my fellow Australians are missing out on international individualised pariahdom but now tour Führer Howard has won it for all of us - the right to be spat on by pissheads in Paris when they hear your accent! The right to be unexpectedly nutted by someone in a bar in Amsterdam, because his best mate's second cousin's wife was killed by SAS forces in Basra and somehow YOU'RE responsible! The right to be condescended to by Continental Europeans (even, who would've thunk it, the Germans)! The right to pretend you're Canadian or from New Zealand when in Pakistan! The right to hide your passport and only whip it out at the last minute when checking in for your flight, to avoid the pitying glances, mutterings in languages you can't understand and the slightly disconcerting stares that linger on your person just that teensy bit too long for comfort by your fellow international travellers! The right to finally get some proper nicknames flung at you overseas (let's face it, "Aussie" is a bit lame)! The right to having to justify, ex officio and ad infinitum, every single decision of every one of your governments, past and present, to a bunch of lagered-up, middle-class students from Islington, when all you wanted was a quiet pint! The right, in short, to be a Tru Playa!! Oh frabjous day.

I could go on, but the bell tolls. Lunch time!! And I didn't even tell you about the fabulous food we get here - everything that passes through our little enclave of Colonia here up the American Arse is delicious and we eat it all day long. The only slightly worrying thing is that we all seem to have lost our balls on our failed expedition to spot the possibly mythical Backbone Region but we really couldn't care less. Later today there'll be sports for all (I think today it's the 100m Genuflect, some Extreme Deepthroating, and then the Freestyle Bendover, hooray!). After that, I might hang out on the beautiful shores of Lake Bile or check out some colourful intestinal flora. Have to stop now and go jackboot shopping.

Hope you're all good and wish you were here! See y'all after my vacation, you have a nice day now y'hear, like, wowee! Ba Baa from Colonia, American Arse.