Australia Day & why the national hangover needs a cure all

With the billious nationalistic excess known as Australia Day looming large in the next 24 hours, fuelled as it is by bogan bushranger pride and goon bags at 20 paces, I find myself a tad melancholic that our country’s identity is languishing in an uber-lazy-arsed default position when it comes to the most revered of all Australian pastimes … the almighty hangover.

Let’s cut to the chase. An international study has revealed that, along with Britain, Australians have voted the ‘fry up’ as the ultimate culinary panacea for our self-indulgent ills.


Really? I’m sorry, but, really, is that the best we can do?

What does this say about our creative currency on the world stage when Namibia, Mongolia and even New Zealand have hangover cures of singular, exotic and more extravagant distinction?

Australia, behold, here are some inspired cures from both past and present cultures that should see our heads hang(over) in shame.

Come On Aussie Come On and get your sore and sorry act together while you’re at it.

Hangover Ancient Rome

Nothing so bland as a Caesar Salad for Ancient Rome. It’s Birdy yum yum.

Hangover Ancient Greece

Not to be outdoner kebabed, the Ancient Greeks’ equivalent to Surf & Turf … the Hoot and Holler.

Hangover US

On a wing and a prairie oyster.

Hangover Scotland

For a well-Irned hangover, or if you’ve just got Bru-ers’ droop.

Hangover Mongolia

Perhaps best served up with a Visine slammer.

Hangover Hungary

Good grief. Now there’s Birdy bum bum!

Hangover Sicily

Otherwise known as phallo-illogical.

Hangover Peru

It was all going so well until they mentioned scraps!

Hangover Namibia

If the hangover doesn’t kill you, the coronary will.

Hangover Philippines

Poached …. with some ffffava beans and a nice Chianti?

Hangover NZ

Even our bros across the Tasman have something truly their own to nurse the next day.

So what have I got to offer by way of alternative?

The great Australian hangover cure, as far as I’m concerned, involves the lick of a cane toad’s skin followed by a Passiona chaser.  For those unfamiliar with either, the first is psychotropical and the latter is, well, just kinda tropical!

But hey, I’m no expert. What’s the great Australian hangover cure lurking in YOUR medicine cabinet?


Guru Adrian – The Cult of No Adult

Dear Anthony Robbins.  I admire you. I really do. You make lots of people feel great about themselves

But there is only one life coach for me, and that is Guru Adrian.

And I ‘m not alone.  The Guru’s disciples are scattered around the globe and for each he means something a little different; in France he’s The Guru You Have When You’re Not Having a Guru, in Japan he’s the Guru of No Wave Consciousness and in Australia he is simply known as The God of Fun.

So who is Guru Adrian?

According to legend, Adrian Speshelperson was born in Beecroft in 1664, discovered the Secret of Eternal Youth with a Junior Science Kit at the age of seven and hasn’t aged a day since.


In the late 1980s, the Guru made regular appearances in Countdown magazine dispensing his sage advice and in the mid 90s was feted by LA studio Hanna-Barbera, hoping to turn Adrian’s transcendental wisdom into an animated series.


But in 1989 things took a sinister turn in the form of Chairman Kevin, a commercially-driven Adrian rip-off conceived by an evil advertising agency of some note, Lowe Howard-Spink to flog a brand of crisps.  As Adrian’s closest confidante David Art Wales said at the time ‘Guru Adrian stands for truth and fun.  Chairman Kevin seems to stand for cheese and onions.’


Fortunately the Guru’s revolutionary philosophy, Adrianetics, remains untainted by MSG and continues to help us all master consciousness and avoid becoming Groan Adults.

The principle of Adrianetics is also not discordant with Ralph Waldo Emerson’s much quoted ‘Life is a journey, not a destination’.

In the Guru’s case though, Adrian prefers to articulate it via the Four Big Questions: Who Am I? Why Am I Here? Where Am I Going? Can I Have a Window Seat?

While some may like to trivialise Guru Adrian as Pee Wee Herman crossed with the Dalai Lama, I have lived every day of my life in accordance with the Guru’s manifesto:

  1. Thou shalt make fun of life
  2. Thou shalt be youknighted
  3. Thou shalt not commit adultie
  4. Thou shalt keep an attitude of gratitude
  5. Thou shalt be for giving
  6. Thou shalt ride the porpoise of life
  7. Thou shalt heed not groan adults
  8. Thou shalt offer no whine list
  9. Thou shalt have No Age consciousness
  10. Thou shalt be afraid not

So is Guru Adrian a cult? I certainly hope so.  I for one enjoy drinking his thoroughly refreshing brand of Cool Aide every single day.


Five reasons why the hipster beard has to go!

You’re putting the arse into gravitas

You think your beard makes you a learned yet edgy steam punk renegade? Note to selfie; you appear to have stopped smiling because all that follicular weight is wearing you and the world down, right?


It’s just an Alpha male love-in

Women have made it quite clear they hate beards. Apart from what amounts to a lip-locking experience that resembles interacting with a sea anemone caught in a brush fence, recent research conducted in both Canada and New Zealand also reveals chicks find beards a complete turn-off because they make you look undesirably aggressive. With that in mind, who exactly are you trying to impress … boys?


Fuzz begets The Fuzz
Statistics show that sporting teams wearing predominantly black uniforms get penalised by referees more than those wearing white. Similarly, the police frown upon beards more than the clean-shaven. Hirsute pursuits are 17% higher than those otherwise known in the trade as a close shave.

Bubble, bubble, toil and stubble

Truth be known, your beard is a bacterial facehugger. Ever heard of a Petri dish? You’re livin’ the dream! While laughter may be infectious, in your case it’s literal. The only good news is that the trip you lost (as opposed to dropped) at Coachella last year is still residing somewhere in your foliage.


‘Yes, we are all chindividuals’

You think you’re intriguing and unique? Alas, you’re a conveyer belt of pelt, one of millions now! So if you won’t cave into a shave then please, get creative and go for a beard that can be singularly revered as opposed to collectively jeered.


Otherwise women across the world will implore you to live and Gilette live.

Spin city

Twirl till you hurl in these dance hi-tops. With a buffered plastic pivot point on the sole you’ll be spinning more than a bucket bong on an empty stomach. Blochs, the ballerina’s first choice in pointes, have obviously decided that brand stretch is good. Come in spinner! $99 in a range of technicolor yawns.