Australia

Written by: Staff on 15th January 2011

Australia |

Now is a good time to be a Pom in Australia.

For those readers unfamiliar with the rivalry between the old country (that would be my homeland of Britain) and the boys Down Under, the Aussies use the term ‘Pom’ to describe the Brits.

The origin of the word is lost in the mists of time. Some say it comes from the stamp “Property of Her Majesty” that was emblazoned across everything from the tea crates to the sheep stealers shipped out to Oz in the Victorian age. Others say it stems from the fact that all Brits who rocked up in the Aussies’ fair land were deported criminals and, thus, “Prisoners of Her Majesty” while yet more say that the origins of the word ‘Pom’ lie in Australian rhyming slang: the Brits were immigrants and, with a strong Aussie accent, the word immigrants can be made to rhyme with pomegranates. The Aussies, who abbreviate everything, soon shortened that to Pom. And we Brits do turn a very deep shade of pomegranate red within minutes of arriving here, so great is our love of sunshine. My people are pale, pasty and emotionally retarded but, even so, we get our kit off quicker than a Swedish stripper at a nudist colony at the merest mention of ultraviolet.

But, back to the intro – now is a good time to be a Pom in Australia because we stuffed the Aussies to win the Ashes.

OK, here comes another history lesson. England and Australia have been trying to wallop each other at cricket for generations (for American readers, now is the time to look away. Cricket is a bizarre sport played at the top level by about seven nations. Think of it like baseball: you have the World Series but, in truth, only the USA and Canada are allowed to compete. Not exactly worldwide, then. Cricket works in the same way but with about five more nations. And the rules are similarly unfathomable).

The Ashes is a huge event in Britain and Australia. Back in 1882, the Aussies beat us on English soil and the great imperial nation shook in its cricket boots. How could this happen? So great was the shock and so terrible the loss that the obituary of English cricket was published in the Sporting Times. It read: “In affectionate remembrance of English cricket which died at The Oval, 29th August, 1882. Deeply lamented by a large circle of sorrowing friends and acquaintances, RIP. NB The body will be cremated and the Ashes taken to Australia.”

The Ashes are, allegedly, the cremated stumps from that infamous match, and they were placed in a small urn. The urn is about the size of a large egg cup but ever since that 1882 encounter, the ownership of said urn has been a matter of national pride for both countries.

And this year the Poms marmelised the Aussies 3-1 with one match drawn to win the urn. It’s the first time the we have won the Ashes in Oz in 24 years. A nation rejoices. Well, the one in the northern hemisphere does. That nation also invents heaps of jokes. What do you call an Australian with a bottle of champagne in his hand? A waiter. What do you call an Australian with a bat in his hand? A vet. You get the general idea.

Yes, now is a good time to be in Oz for us Poms.

So great is the appeal of cricket around here that John McEnroe went to watch England play Australia in the first 20-20 match of the tour on Wednesday (and, again, for our American readers, ignore the technicalities. All you need to know is that Mac the Mouth went to a cricket match. And England won. Again). Then again, Mac has been showing very British tendencies of late.

He teamed up with Ryan Harrison to play doubles at the World Tennis Challenge in Adelaide. They were playing Henri Leconte and Michael Llodra, which may not have been a wise move. Leconte decided to liven things up by turning the match into a game of strip tennis and as the set drew to a close, Llodra was down to his trolleys (a rather alarming pair of black and white knickers that left far too little to the imagination. Still, he is French), Leconte was left with just a shirt and his underthings while Johnny Mac was down to his shorts and not a lot else. And he was loving it more than a British holidaymaker on Bondi beach.

Meanwhile, Harrison, sensible young man that he is, was fully dressed save for a lack of shoes and socks.

The moral here is that when playing strip tennis, poker or anything else, start from the bottom. Not your bottom, just the bottom. That’s why Harrison (who, incidentally, helped Mac to a 6-4 win over the Frenchmen) can go home to his folks and not have to explain himself while Messrs Leconte, Llodra and McEnroe have a more embarrassing return to the missus once they get back from Australia.

And finally, and still on the subject of clothes, Maria Sharapova has a new dress for the Oz Open. It is basically grey with an orange bit over her right… well, across the right hand side of her…. oh, what the hell – she has one orange boob and one grey one.

Now, this fashion statement vexed the good people of the Australian Open website. It vexed them terribly. Oz is not a land where political correctness carries much weight but, even so, the lads on the website tried their best. How to describe the dress? What colour was that orange bit? And where, exactly, was it? Someone suggested that the colour might be described as cantaloupe until someone else noticed that that that would mean Queen Shazza had one melon-coloured melon and one grey one. Things were not going well.

Then again, if the clothes designers insist on wrapping their female stars in as little as possible and pointing out their pointy bits with splashes of colour, they cannot be upset when the boys of the world get over-excited. So, for the record: at this year’s Australian Open, Shazza will be wearing a grey frock with one of her Nike norks highlighted in orange. You read it here first folks.

Topics: alix ramsay