Despite its loud, yowling denial of this fact to any bouncer who glances in its direction, the bogan loves to queue. Nightclub operators have been aware of this for many years, and prime bogan clubbing localities are famous for creating 10 metre queues at the front door of a half empty bar. The queuing process creates anticipation in the bogan’s mind, like a particularly diligently wrapped gift.
Often though, a queue of bogans will become unruly. Forced to arrange themselves in a logical sequence, squabbles and yelling matches regularly erupt, creating a public nuisance and causing the venue operator to worry about being placed in a “high risk” liquor licence category. The solution for this problem is a velvet rope.
Put a velvet rope anywhere, and the bogan will line up behind it. It will queue for longer periods, and with less complaint, than it will behind a rope of any other fabric, alloy, or fibre. The presence of velvet is almost soothing to the bogan, and brings forth some of its best behaviour. But there are other motivators behind this improved etiquette, for the bogan is a complex beast.
Because the rope is velvet, the bogan will assume that whatever it is excluding people from is VIP, and likely to contain a DJ. OR CELEBRITIES. There could even be x-treme danger. Either way, a velvet rope makes the bogan strangely docile when it eventually gets to the front of the queue and is informed that it will cost $50 to proceed further. It will obediently hand a pineapple to the cosmetics-smeared door wench operating the till.
Once inside, the bogan will eagerly scan the room, searching for more velvet ropes. There is one by the cloak room, so the bogan joins this queue. 15 minutes later, jacket offloaded for $5, the bogan is ready to queue for a $9 bottle of locally produced foreign label beer, or a $10 Breezer. It will spend the remainder of the night switching between the bar queue and the velvet rope in front of the DJ booth, where it attempts to grind hips with inebriated bogans of the opposite sex each time the smoke machine creates enough haze to lend the air of initial mystique.
The bogan emerges from the club at 4am, $200 poorer, and visibly irritated due to the queue at the cab rank being framed only by a sticky steel rail.