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Sharks: rubbish dinner party friends

This weekend the New Zealand All Blacks won the rugby World Cup, which, if you didn’t know, is a big big deal for the Kiwis.

There’s a good reason why this is so. In New Zealand there are two things to do: 1) play rugby and 2) breathe air.

I know a lot of Kiwis. London’s full of them. I own a property in Watford and a Kiwi lives in it. He moved to London for two reasons: 1) to marry a girl who doesn’t look like a man and 2) to raise enough sterling to get cash rich.

He’s going back to New Zealand because he achieved the first, but didn’t really achieve the second. So, in the next few months he’s off to Woonga Galunga or wherever it is, with his English rose, to look at sheep and cook large chunks of animal flesh while standing in his oversized shorts pronouncing the word fish as ‘fush’.

So he’s going back to where he belongs, and good for him, but he is one of many who buys into a school of thought that suggests that here in London, it’s crap, and that over there, 24 hours’ flying time away, it’s all rather heavenly and wonderful. The first part is almost correct, but the second part beggars belief.

I’ve been to Australia and it’s ok, but it’s not a place you should go to spend the rest of your life. The fact is Sydney, Auckland, Wellington, Melbourne and Perth are bloody miles away from anything except a bunch of dust and a few snakes that’ll kill you if you step on their heads. And that’s just on the land. The sea’s a bloody nightmare. Currently, there’s a warning on Rottnest Island following the third in a series of fatal shark attacks. It’s the same animal, apparently, so the lifeguards have set about catching the Great White by dragging a dead Kangaroo behind a speedboat and shouting, ‘Here fushy fushy!’

Aussies cite the surf as a major attraction but who wants to be a Great White’s mid-morning snack or find themselves on the receiving end of a jellyfish that’ll turn your testicles into basketballs?

Australia is a place for sheep and weird-sounding town names and that’s the way it should stay. Kylie never went back, and Jason Donovan’s still cutting out a fairly lucrative career here as the ‘go-to’ if you want some borrowed moronic wisdom for a radio soundbite and to make even the stupidist Brit look mildly intelligent.

There’s a reason why New Zealand and Australia are a long way away. It’s because people shouldn’t go there. Here’s some sound advice: stay in London, breathe poor quality air, sit in traffic, eat overpriced food, pay exorbitant rent and experience six months of grey drizzly weather and get over yourself.

Here endeth the lesson.

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