Watching these two buffoons vie and fumble for what they consider to be an Australian identity is truly an amusing spectacle – fortunately or unfortunately for the nation the subtext of this debate/competition reveals that the national identity is as evasive today as it has been since Federation; and that is the secret of the Oz identity – it evades all who try to ‘fix it in stone’.

Ok, cobbers, let’s try to settle this identity crisis once and for all.

I was 'knockin back a few sherbets' (drinking beer) with mi china plates (friends) discussin the issue the lackey worm prime minister and the walking fart opposition leader raised, when mi best mate hit upon the right answer, at least for us blokes anyway; the sheilas (women) will have to sort themselves out (as they have always done!).

Do we doubt for a bloody second who we are? Not on your bloody life! Did we concern ourselves with these issues on the (football) field or in the surf or when the bullets were flying in every war we couldn’t wait to participate in? No, we did it the way we learnt it – the Oz way (like no other way!) And we did it well and we continue to do it well. The prob is our ‘fearless leaders’ have not participated in traditional Aussie character-forming pursuits; as a result they are not representative of Oz males! Consequently THEY have no identity and imagine that applies to everyone!

When we are on the field playing hard do we pad ourselves (wear padding) all over like those sepo (American) poofs when they play their football? This cultural diff is reflected in combat too. Sepos are soft and lack endurance; their football stops and starts because they have no ‘wind’. We play-on and love it, crunch! When we fight we rely on SKILL, TRAINING and the LARRIKIN ADVANTAGE that spontaneously exploits any given situation (we are unpredictable, they once called us the ghosts of the jungle but now we fight in deserts – we have been there before, no fuckin worries, mate).

While the moron sepos are busy shooting each other (friendly fire) we dispatch the enemy – and guess who the enemy is NOW, Johnny? (Roaring laughter permeates the bar!)

BUT ABOVE ALL (AND NEVER FORGET IT) WE RELY ON OUR MATES AND WE FIGHT AS ONE – if we doubted who we were we’d all be dead and so the nation BUT we are HERE, Johnny 'Coward (you lying, sell-out, piece of cockroach shit) can you hear our footsteps approaching, weasel?

Ok, settle down, we all know what Johnny and his government are but explain to the world would ya! Ok, Poita, (Peter) relax; Johnny is trying to ‘come the raw prawn’ (con) the nation for political advantage – when you’re a failure as a man in every respect, you’re only recourse is LIES, DECEIT and manipulation. Howard attempts to resurrect cultural racist tendencies inherited from our long dead British colonial past – now take a long look (around) at you lot, you fare from the rest of Europe and Asia – Johnny’s middle name (Winston) tells it all – he is a living anachronism that the nation has already outgrown and is about to dump, good and proper!

Johnny proposes a number of language and ‘values’ tests that will determine what an Aussie really is! Fuckin hell, even I have to sit for an English language test, ‘ow do ya reckon I’ll go? (Roaring laughter permeates the bar!) But I’ve got one for Johnny; we are the embodiment of Oz values so I will challenge him to a one-on-one game of footy; when I break his lackey rodent neck it will become obvious to all that he failed the Oz values test and good bloody riddance. What real Australian would re-colonise the nation to yanks and allow them to build two huge military bases as monuments to their latest colonial acquisition? Who would sell-out every traditional Australian value cherished by generations of Aussies – especially the ‘fair go’ and the egalitarian ideal?

John Winston Howard fails every imaginable test and value that would qualify him as an Australian – who the fuck are you tryin to kid you disgusting cowardly excuse for anything human?

We know you plagiarised your nationalist debate and we know that your consultants and advisers are bereft. Whatever and wherever, we are onto you; the breath you feel on your neck is ours.

We are ONE.

[Relax, we write poetry too; unlike Howard and his front bench, we are all-rounders.]