Celebrations include fireworks, barbecues, citizenship ceremonies and — the one thing that stops a nation — a speech from our prime minister.
Throughout the land little children will be filled with joy as their loving hearts swell with pride for their country and crowds will spontaneously gather on footpaths to wave little flags and cheer and swap stories about civic duty and national fervour.
As I say, Australia Day excites me. I shall be wearing an Akubra and Blundstones. I shall be wearing Stubbies and a blue singlet. I shall be singing in joyful strains about waltzing Matildas and how women glow and men plunder. I shall be draped in the flag of the southern cross, our beloved federation star and the union jack. Oh I am so thrilled to have our colonial subservience to our Queen (I did but see her passing by but I shall love her till I die) acknowledged so prominently. I shall be dodging canetoads and making racist comments. I shall be eating damper and pavlova. I shall be planting banksias and dying of thirst in a desert. I shall be winning gold medals in swimming and beach volleyball. I shall be getting eaten by sharks and stung by stingrays. I shall be mining uranium with my hand over my heart, crying “Australia, it is to you I give my fidelity. To you I give my faith. Oh, fair homeland, accept my humble praise.”
And so thank heavens we are celebrating Australia Day. Otherwise I would forget that part.