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S.O.S. Save Our Strine.

August 2, 2014

Edna EveregeMy apologies if you have heard this before…I used it in a speech I made some months back as the stand-in officiator at an Unley Council citizenship ceremony….but it supports, very neatly, this “Weekend  Australian’s” lament at the erosion of  Strine.

Coming home to our  Wattletree Road  flat  from Melbourne’s Caulfield racecourse a few days after arriving from England, I expressed surprise to my Australian neighbours at the fact that their homeland   had not only introduced rabbits, but also game birds. Puzzled looks all round…until I pointed out that the  hotel there was advertising “Extra grouse sandwiches”.

Much  amused laughter, and the explanation that it meant  the food was extra-delicious, not a near-cousin to a pheasant.

All of which is by way of supporting the “Australian’s” defence of our national language, which is placed neatly alongside another journalistic gem taking (mainly) sports commentators to task  for mangling English like what yaknow it should be spoke like. The atmosphere at a stadium labelled as “electronic”, for example.

In many a travel around Australia over the decades I  have met (thankfully)  true-blue blokes who are keeping Strine alive. When, that is,they have time to mag on while having a smoko  between hard grafting flat out like a lizard drinking.

It’s a pity that the up-and-coming generations gather their slang from the idiot box. And I dips me lid to the diehards among us. Like my dinky-di fellow art collector  down there in Victor Harbor who writes like he talks and sends e-mails addressed  to “Dear Cobber”. And he’s not having a send.

Goodonya, Cookie.

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One Comment leave one →
  1. H S Cook permalink
    August 6, 2014 2:13 pm

    I’ll be buggered cobber. Strewth and stone the bloody crows. Not to mention fair suck of the sav/sausage/sauce bottle. A dinky-di Aussie talking dinky-di strine. Whatever next? Good to see, too many Amerincanism’s creeping into our vernacular cobber, that’s what I say. And as I was saying to the missus the other night over tea, “get that lot into yer gob!” The missus of course being me own wonderful and understand Darling and by far my best ever investment. Better than backing a broken down old nag, like I do on Satdy’s all too regularly. Cheers, cold beers, over and out cobber.

    …………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

    Do you need an interpreter for that lot? Nah, you should get it … that is, if you understand strine.

    Like

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