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Diary

By Mark Little

26 January 2004 - If someone asked me "What does an old socialist, communist sympathiser, dabbling anarchist Australian think about living in England?", I'd have to say: "Sad". By Mark Little

Oh Crikey! Blimey! Bloody hell! Strewth! Beauty! The New Statesman wants me to chuck my two bob's worth into the political hat. Stir up a bit of shit. Create a new lingo for the dissident voice.

The editor wants to know what it's like to be an Australian living in England. What are the cultural differences? Witty; observational; political. One thousand words. An Aussie in England? Cultural differences? One thousand words! Shit! More like 1,000 hours of high-powered ranting and raging against the machine; hard not to be glib in under 1,000 words. But we're off. Maybe Ed saw me on Richard & Judy with Germaine (Greer) talking about being Australian in England and the cultural differences, and rugby and sex. She's a filthy bugger, Germaine. Sometimes I even see her on the telly not being Australian, just being a clever dick, and it's a good look. I try, but it's hard.

"The NS wants you to write a piece," my agent says. "Great," I say. Something on the rising neoconservative push across popular art? Something on the age of insanity? "Celebrity Menace" I could call it. A gonzo piece on peyote, just for a laugh, in Las Vegas. I am here, I am ready. So! What does the NS want me to unleash? The beast is definitely out of its hole and it's time to beat the neoconservative monster repeatedly and joyously with sticks. Let the pen do the fighting.

As it happens, twice I have held up security at airports, being asked to identify a long, sharp object in my bag. Twice, once with an Arab professor with the same "security risk". Our pens! Long and sharp. "Weapons of mass description!" "What are you going to do with that, you hooligan?" "Write something! For the NS." "What?" "Why?" Then the penny drops. Bugger! Australia Day! They want me to write something for Australia Day. What is it like to be an Australian in England? What are the cultural differences?

Why does everything I get asked about as a comedy communicator have to be about Australia? Australia Day: to me and other Aussies, it is known as "Invasion Day". The day in 1788 when England stole Australia for England. It is not a happy day for many Aussies.

A few years ago, a group of Aussie Aboriginals planted the Aboriginal flag on the beach at Dover and claimed England as Aboriginal land. Laughable? Sure. Just as laughable as England's little joke back in 1788.

As coincidence goes, I'm halfway through an essay by Germaine Greer entitled "White Fella Jump Up", calling for Australians to seize the moment and push for Australia to become an Aboriginal republic.

I'm like a lot of Aussies, quite at home in England. My grandad was from Minehead in Somerset. My wife's mum and family were East Enders; stevedores. My early ancestors on both sides were convicts. Ancestry is becoming very fashionable in Oz. I'm also very much at home in the Aussie bush, but any hint of Aboriginal ancestry is not so fashionable.

But if we are to be honest, who gives a damn? The question should be: "What's it like to be really poor in England?" "What's it like to be really sick in England?" "What's it like to be really smart, from a background of no support and opportunity?" Not a question about myself, but the greater picture of being an Aussie Euro-Brit.

If the question had been: "What does an old socialist, communist sympathiser, dabbling anarchist Australian think about living in England?", I'd say: "Sad." In 100 words or less . . . I fled with my family from Australia when the Australian Labor Party smashed a conservative reign and then sold out all its socialist ideals to sell Australia completely down the dunny. We came to find a lost sense of solidarity, brotherhood, sisterhood, anti-racism, anti-sexism, anti-nuclear, anti-war, in a revolutionary England.

But alas, the same has happened here. The Labour Party saviours have sold us out again. And I see a familiar pattern, which I witnessed in Australia 15 years ago. A loss of plot and of true moral fibre. As a 15-year-old, I believed myself to be a citizen of the world, even though I had never been anywhere.

But right now, in the early 21st century, as a citizen of the world, I see a need to fight with my "weapon of mass description". We are in a neoconservative dark age of dumb-think. An age of insanity, of nonsensical celebrity and fame and greed. We must be careful that culture doesn't disappear altogether, and that everything doesn't just become a "brand".

That must be 1,000 words! I have to stop. I knew it wouldn't be easy. The best thing you can do on 26 January, on "Invasion Day" is ask an Aussie if they have read Germaine Greer's essay "White Fella Jump Up".

I know I've mentioned Greer a few times, but I think she's a spunk, so I can mention her as much as I like. Hey, it's Australia Day. Viva Germaine Greer, the Queen of the Aboriginal Republic! I will joyously be one of Germaine's intellectual slaves and build pyramids of common sense and care around Australia, and in every mall in the world.

Hooray for Australia Day, the only chance to have my say.

Mark Little is starring in a national tour of the musical Taboo

Source: New Statesman

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