Delta Goodrem, lusty songbird that she is, built a bogan empire by the time she was twenty. The combination of bogan–standard good looks, vanilla bland balladry and the perception of purity were deeply appealing to the female bogan’s need to idolise the Diana, and the male bogan’s desire to violate it; all to the soundtrack of a mid-90s sub-Whitney Houston piano number. When Goodrem tragically contracted non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma in 2003, the bogan was able to forge a deep spiritual connection with this chanteuse it had never met, extending its deepest sympathies and allowing it to feel that it had contributed directly to Goodrem’s fortunate recovery.
Then, sometime after releasing her third album, Goodrem decided that this singing caper was for schmucks. She had the realisation that so many before her had had – that bogan bucks can be made far more easily than by actually doing stuff. She decided to lend her renewed flowing locks and glamour looks to selling shampoo. And decided she liked it.
The bogan likes buying things. Delta likes selling things. In some cosmic alignment only seen every 5,000 years or in the occasional Schwarzenegger film, Goodrem began to mine a vein of bogan bucks so rich as to boggle the mind of amateurs like Max Markson. Markson must constantly be alert to the proclivities of the bogan – which celebrities it is interested in reading/talking about – then manipulate the bogan media in order to increase his payments to the maxtreme. Delta, by contrast, rocks up at a photo studio, poses for some shots, records a sound bite or two, then walks back to her mansion and watches the bogan bucks roll in.
What’s more, she has successfully targeted her product promotions to hit on some incredibly potent bogan pressure points. She sells ProActiv skin care, with a formula so advanced that the bogan could not possibly understand it, and thus believes that it is entirely responsible for Delta’s alabaster skin. She advertises Sunsilk shampoo, which the bogan naturally insists is the cause for her cascading reams of golden blonde hair. She advertises So Good soy milk, to ensure the bogan can sneer at her ability to sell hippy milk to hippies. She sells the music magazine in News Ltd’s Thursday papers, the same magazine that routinely informs the bogan about how outstanding the latest Australian Idol’s album is, via a series of hard-hitting interviews.
Most importantly though, she sells Wii Sports and Nintendo DS Brain Training. These two products are so face-meltingly bogan that their combination with such a bogan witch doctor is the proverbial bogan bug-zapper. Wii Sports advertises to the bogan that it can lose weight and get fit by standing still and watching television. Brain Training advertises that it can make the bogan smarter by pointing a stylus at an array of grade three problem solving challenges on a portable screen.
Now fatter, dumber, with greasy hair, equally greasy skin, a love of Lady Gaga and an inexplicable addiction to soy milk – its long-held soy allergy notwithstanding – the bogan waits with bated breath to see how on Earth Delta can make its life better next.