The bogan’s love of sick clubs is well documented. As the previous findings of this boganomic think tank have indicated, many things that the bogan likes can be found at the club – remixes, pre-mixes, hot Asian chicks and last year’s designer drug, to name but a few. But, observe a bogan on a night out and you will notice something that at first seems hard to explain; the amount of time the bogan actually spends in nightclubs pales in comparison to the amount of time it spends on footpaths outside nightclubs. It seems that the bogan has developed an unparalleled array of reasons that require it to be near the club, but not in it.
Even though the bogan is an avowed enemy of queue jumpers trying to get into Sydney’s western suburbs to take its jobs, women and liberty, the bogan is an avowed jumper of queues getting into clubs. It all starts with the bogan waddling along the footpath as it inches closer to the velvet rope of hope. Upon gaining entry, the bogan tends to remain in the club just long enough to consume a jager bomb and threaten to glass a cunt, before beginning to question whether maybe the chicks are hotter, the beats sicker and the drinks more explosive at another club. Constantly plagued by the thought that the glass may be greener somewhere else, the bogan fears that it is not having the most maxtreme time possible.
Off to the next club, and after more waiting on the footpath to get in, the bogan enters briefly before re-emerging shortly after to have a smoke, which it only does when clubbing. Soon after re-entry, the bogan again finds itself heading back out to the footpath, this time to punch on. Like an irritating housecat yowling at the back door, when it’s inside it wants to be outside, but upon going outside it soon wants back in. The cycle continues through the night with perplexing regularity. Another few jager bombs inside and some casual groping sees the bogan escorted from the premises, back onto the footpath outside, where it spends yet more time arguing with bouncers, threatening passersby and, eventually, vomiting.
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Ahhh classic! I was in the Valley on Friday night, a place I have not frequented very often since turning 30 and there was certainly a lot of this behaviour. You need to add, however, girl-bogues crying. There was a lot of that going on. Young girls, dressed like hookers, crying. Presumably because some bogan lad was not keen on them. Mr T-ra kept commenting on how many prostitutes there were on the street and would not believe me that is just how the kids dress these days!
Yes, I have seen the girl-bogue’s dressed like hookers crying on footpaths & in car parks. Maybe they’re crying because although they look like hookers, they are too dumb to charge a dollar & every Shane, Craig, Brett & Davo has been up them for free? Hmmm…
not forgetting johnno, marty, smitho, mark, phil, cameron etc.. and the rest of the lads from the local country footy team.
I used to live above a shop on busy Brunswick St in Fitzroy. On friday and sat nights, we would get the hysterical boguettes having conniptions outside our window. This happened every weekend. After a while, we figured that maybe they were crying because they were hungry. So we would turn the lights out and pelt them with eggs and “dumplings” made of flour, soy sauce and tomato sauce. Oh those were the days! We got very god at throwing things through power lines, trams lines and under awnings. It goes to show if correctly motivated a group of bitter queens can show sporting prowess.
Ha, one of us was in at the Fitzroy police station yesterday giving a statement on a bouncer stomping on the head of someone who was motionless on the footpath, and then throwing a girl who was on her knees into the gutter. For those who are interested, your prospects of a nice night out at the Nightcat are slim. Its website (www.thenightcat.com.au) asserts that ” Its distinctive and prevalently warm vibe is certain to get you off your feet and dancing the night away” – as it turns out, it’s the boots and fists of the security staff that get you off your feet, more than the vibe. TBL
Ha been to the Nightcat several times in my youth and had some trouble with security way back then,
Place is an absolute shit hole now. I prefer to read ‘People’ magazine.
I remember going to the Nightcat once and hating it. The last time I wondered past it, there were a thousand young bogues as far as the eye could see (popped collars and Ed Hardy everywhere), screaming at each other about how long it was taking to get their group of 20 inside. The gutter was covered in scantily dressed femme-bogues crying to their friends about something or other… It was the bogan version of the opening scene of Saving Private Ryan.
I was almost moved to violence myself, seeing how these youngsters were acting (and I’m only 28, ffs!). I almost feel sorry for the bouncers given what they have to put up with these days.
by wondered, I meant wandered… 🙂
Yep not to mention the stupid fucking low hanging lights that you need to navigate past like it’s a fucking labyrinth of some description.
but does it have david bowie?
he still freaks me out because of that movie.
LOL. I always just end up in the VIP section of course.
It’s a somewhat hilarious irony that any premises upon which a “VIP section” can be found does, by definition, lack the presence of anyone that has or could ever be considered important.
Think about it, everyone. Think about where you’ve seen “VIP sections”. You know it’s true. It was covered well in the TBL post on “velvet ropes”. Demarking something as VIP is done only to try and generate interest in going there.
VIP is a typically bogan concept. Ironically, they care more about being important than people who are actually important.
If the club has a VIP section, you can bet it’s a bogan club. Much like gold class cinemas I guess…
Jimmy (10:22:38) said: “If the club has a VIP section, you can bet it’s a bogan club.”
The only casino in canberra had a VIP section. God it was bogan. Fiona would have fit right in there.
And it’s so exclusive, you can just walk up there and sit at the table! And that $50 minimum sure is ritzy!
i’ve had VIP passes to a few festivals. it improves the experience (and assures better reviews) when you’ve got short lines for booze and bathrooms and real food
i lost my Vegas Bar card this weekend, though… grrr
Fi ,
you don’t actually vomit in the V.I.P. section ?
Maybe your driver does it for you ??
That’s what VIP stands for. Vomit In Private
Personally, I prefer University House.
LOL. Too common for my tastes, of course.
very aspirational too
Too intellectual as well, no doubt. Best you stay with the b-listers in the VIP sections…
I’ve been out ‘clubbing’ twice in the last year, and this phenomenon was apparent to me both times. We got a cab to Bayswater Rd in Sydney and I thought there was some kind of street festival on there were so many people just lurking about. The bars we went to were all reasonably empty. I thought this was just because they were crap, but now I realise there was far more to it than that.
Not that we are exactly au fait with the “club scene” du jour; we refuse to enter premises which have a cover charge or a dress code. As for queues, one simply heads for the front of the queue, nods at the bouncers and walks in. The queue exists to sort the wheat from the chaff: anyone willing to queue is obviously not worthy of entry in the first place. Amazingly the queue jump strategy has about an 86% success rate in our experience. Bouncers are bogans too, display a non threatening sense of entitlement and they’ll roll over. We have plans now to open a nightclub which looks like a darkened city street. Should cash in.
Isn’t that essentially the plot of ‘Night at the Roxbury’? They end up opening a club which looks like the street, and the outside of it looks like the inside of a club.
Ahaha, so true. That’s exactly what we used to do when I used to go out all the time.
The bogan keeps going out trying to compete with the 500 other bogans for the 5 girls that actually go to these sh!t hole night clubs. You can’t have a decent conversation because the music is at 5 million decibels so all there is to do is walk around and drink. Obviously done intentionally so you spend heaps at the bar.
the problem with rock fans is there are so few rock clubs… i usually end up back at the Townie
The bogan is to blame for this too. I remember back in the 90s when I had just left school and was going out a lot, at the local nightclub they used to play *some* rock songs amongst the techno and dance, like Pearl Jam or whatever, but whenever they did this all the meatheads would get on the dancefloor and get violent, so they had to stop it and just play techno and dance.
There was also a gig on the local beach featuring some reasonable quality alternative bands but then the bogans made their little circles at the front and started running into each other, one of them threw a shoe at the lead singer and narrowly missed his head.
Maybe we should just leave Australia, nuke it, or preferably release some sort of bio warfare agent, kill all the bogans, then come back in a few years.
i don’t get it though… in the States, rock is mainstream and dance is underground… feels like the reverse here. i live in the city so i don’t want to go to bogan RSLs but my options are either
1. shitty indie rock bands
2. kinda decent punk/metal bands
3. monthly events like Black Cherry
4. Spectrum or Vegas
or
5. taking over a pub with a decent jukebox
hell i’m so starved for rock i hang out with hair metal guys
The Sydney rock scene has sucked balls for years. I only caught a glimpse of it because it died pretty much after I left school. I was pissed. It’s better around Newtown where you are of course. But I guess it still sucks around there too. Haha.
Martin,
Nutron Bombs are the go
like this….
LOL @ glass may be greener.
I think T-Ra has hit the nail on the head – Bogan boys are loathe to go inside because the street looks like some sort of Sexpo inspired Mardi Gras, surely with this many free range hookers the bogan believes it will find the holy grail of bogan prostitute mythology – The Freebie.
“Nah Mayte. Afterwoods she give me money back”
no mention of supercilious sluts aka door bitches
An acquaintance of mine, in an act of passive aggression toward door bitches, attempted to gain entry to several of The Valleys nightclubs dressed only in a belt, shoes and socks. I’m only sorry I wasn’t there to see it.
Door Bitches are a bit mid 90’s, as was the golden era of clubs(post underbelly but pre urban/street)
eh i’m a live music guy, so we still have them… you kinda need to if you’re paying real money to see a real band
Completely off topic, but I’ve just read that Shane Warne is to host his own variety show on channel 9. Bogan heaven! I’m sure this will give TBL much material
Is Daryl Sommers leaving “Hey, Hey”…again?
speaking of daryl, what is his beard’s name? i keep forgetting
@ Simon of SY
The ex-prima ballerina? Dunno…LOL
I did have the fortune of spilling coke on Mr Sommers shoes when I was 10.
Pinkster,
So ! You were treading the boards at such atender age ?
Girl-bogues are normally found in the toilets, crying. Their BBF is often there comforting it – “It’s OK Taylah, he’s not worth it” – then it will hold its hair as it vomits.
this (and the bad music) would be why i don’t go to nightclubs.
there’s also the people who line up to get into a venue after a band has played, preferring a dj to live music.
Candy’s Apartment does that… hate it
though i do like Spectrum’s DJs
been to spectrum a few times, and on all but one occasion there were more people lining up outside afterwards than there were at the actual shows. then again, the one time there was a group of poser bogues (you know the type – spend all their time taking photos of themselves rather than listening to the music) at spectrum convinced me it’s better they wait around outside rather than distract from the band performing.
did you go on a Thursday? that’s Hot Damn! (metal/punk/emo night) and there’s always a massive line
i’ve seen some good bands there (Ted Leo!) and had some good nights
no, i’ve been there on fridays and saturdays only.
Bogans like Vocoder.
OK. Bogans like nightclubs. And nightclubs play music.
So WTF with the goddamn Vocoder already?
Did someone just reinvent this thing?
So we all saw the zany crew playing with the vocoder on spicks n specks this week, and, if my brief observations of saturday morning Rage are any indication, you just can’t have any sort of remotely “urban” pop hit in recent memory without substantial vocoding. And now we hear a couple of tracks popping up on the Yoof Network (God damn you Richard Kingsmill).
People fail to realise the inherent danger in the Vocoder.
If Eddie Vedder were to kwaye through a vocoder…
say, just the opening stanza of “yellow ledbetter”
…the Universe would end.
I think now they refer to it as autotune.
Vocoders and autotuners aren’t really the same thing. An autotuner can be used as a vocoder.
I blame Cher. C#nt.
Did Cher also start the dressing like a slut thing (with Madonna of course). Yes she has an awful lot to answer for.
And what about the machine where you talk through your guitar as introduced by Peter Frampton on his seminal Frampton comes Alive album (vinyl kids). Can’t remember its name but probably gave the evil geniuses behind the Vocoder the idea.
Cher started the Grandma Dressed As A Slut Straddling a Cannon look, Madonna updated it to Grandma Dressed As A Slut Straddling a Boombox. I thought it couldn’t get worse. But when I saw Cher live (free ticket , long , horrible story), she topped it all by offering a new look . Grandma Dressed As A Slut Climbing Out of Stage Prop Elephants Anus. She should be lashed until she drops.
Do You Feel Like We Do… my first album paid for with my paper run money… which got me into Humble Pie, which got me into the Small Faces which got me in to the Stones which got me into Muddy Waters etc. Sigh.
My first album – singles actually – Marilyn “Calling Your Name” Single, Queen “Radio Gaga” and Thompson Twins “Doctor Doctor”. Who would have thought the the 11 year old kid was gay?
The first album I paid for myself was The Muppets. Muhnumunup with Animal is killer.
fine choice – Muppett movie is one of the first movie I can remember seeing at the cinema – I had Kool Mints
My first movie was a double at the drive ins of Snow White and The Sting. I remember being scared by both and wondering how much they pay the actors who get killed. Lots I was thinking.
Don’t recall the first movie, but do remember the cartoon shorts – Hekyll and Jekyll. Think I wet myself.
that song is the bane if my existence. i want to kill it.
That whole scene of women dressed in their finery having to have their hair held for them while they vomit… is quite alarming. Seems to be a very low class rite of passage, as I’m sure Fiona of Toorak will attest.
Everybody vomits sometime… apols to REM
i love it when the group of male bogues are in the queue and get to the front only to be told ‘guest list only’ but the security guy. Then they start to complain about how shit the club is and how there mate’s girlfriends cousins step sisters cousin is a promotor/dj/owner/manager and they get on their mobiles to get someone to vouch for them in the club or they just walk off into the darkness – well as much as they can with their white pointy toe dress shoes and say “Fark this, lets go to the strippers”.
Ah, the cover-charge. Always fascinated me that the bogan – whilst quite content to spend hundreds of dollars a night on last year’s designer drugs and pre-mixes (indeed, will loudly proclaim the maxstremeness of their expenditure on said items) – considers it an affront to have to pay $20 to enter the club itself.
$10 is my limit, unless i’m seeing a band
The fact that bogans dislike paying a cover charge is what makes the cover charge worth paying.
I will gladly pay thirty or forty bucks to reduce the prevalence of bogans in the population I am inhabiting. Of course I don’t normally do the club “hopping” as such, I tend to pick a venue and stay there for at least a little a while.
More use of the over 28’s clubs in this story would have been splendid and how the bogue 25yo male will go in search of a cougar looking for a toyboy, once he has exhausted all ‘avenues’ on the footpath that is.
Is anyone else having flashback’s of 161 in Melbourne? BAHAHAHAHAHA
My flashbacks are of the Tunnel and Grainstore.
Was Mansions a melbourne place? I have dim recollections of possibly the worst place I’ve ever been to in my life, followed on the Sat night by H&C down at some huge pub/band place in St Kilda on the beach front. A decade or two ago now so the memory banks are a little hazy.
Prolly the Prince of Wales or the Espy maybe, don’t know about ‘Mansions’, Fiona may have had a rave or two at her place.
I went to a dyslexic rave once.
May have been the Esplanade. Not wide, but long and you went up stairs to get into the band section. The carpet was a kind of grey , fermented mulch that seemed baked on the floors. Absolutely brilliant band venue. Made my 3 months in Melbourne some of the best in my short life (at that point). Highlights: H&C, Stephen Cummings, and I do believe, Split Enz one night.
Oh yes… 161, Dome & Freakazoid… I sort of remember…
I worked (very briefly) as a cocktail waitress at the Long Room on Collins st… there is nothing more boganic than this horrible nightclub and the malignant bogans that are drawn to it. It has it all – noveau bogan owners that treat their underlings like dirt, VIP area (the horro), arrogant door selection fuckheads, hired specifically to let in only skany twenty-something women and men who look like they have money –
and of course glassings every night. I had the incredibly difficult task of separating the side-walk smoking bogans from the tables and heaters in the centre (smoking laws)… oh some skimpily-clad femme-bogue almost punched me for demanding that she moved – the entitlement they feel! Anyways, I quit mid-shift, screaming to the manager that “i owe you nothing!” horrible work envirnoment, horrible clientele – a truly bogerific experience.
i went out drinking with a girl from Penrith this weekend… her and her friends insisted on drinking in the park to save money, despite us being on Oxford St… grrrr
most bogan moment – hanging out with a girl who i just met as she vomited on the footpath in front of Oxford Street. this was a few years ago though
i need to stop dating Westies
Please write something about bogans love for turning minor misfortunes into national tragedies.
http://www.adelaidenow.com.au/news/south-australia/tornado-hits-penola/comments-e6frea83-1225899441056
Baby Jesus is punishing them for their stupidity.
i don’t go to nightclubs generally, prefering live music, but i spent a year of my undergrad in a university town in canada and went to the two clubs there a few times. one of the two was deemed particularly cool because it had biplanes hanging from the ceiling and was owned by dan aykroyd. it also had the reputation of being the sort of place where 15 year old girls were picked up by 40 year old men.
it was also funny seeing the canadian equivalents of femmebogues standing outside freezing in their skimpy dresses in -30 temperatures without coats because they wouldn’t pay the $3 coat check charge. i’ll always remember the taxi driver who told us with a laugh that he’d drive past girls dressed like that and pick up other passengers instead to teach them not to be so stupid as to go out without a coat in february in ontario. i doubt they ever learnt.
I started going to nightclubs when I was 13/14 years old and finally got home at about 27 years old. Now I would rather have my eyes poked out with a burnt stick than spend another minute in yet another dark room with flashing lights, mediocre music and surrounded my f#ckwits that I mercifully cannot hear.
Mr Viv and I are getting so antisocial that even our rule of only going out to see live music is changing. We are going to see Jonsi on Wed night (school night!) and its at The Metro or Palace or whatever its called these days. After bitching about that for a while we decided on a new rule. Live Music only at non-club venues from now on. Preferably not on weeknights…
Only exception is when traveling overseas when we try to track down a drag show wherever we are – best yet Budapest.
i pretty much only go to live music but i got dragged to Stonewall on Saturday and had a great time (i’m straight, but i was with a mixed crowd)
There’s a stonewall in Australia? I went to a club called stonewall in NYC. It was notionally a gay club, and they checked for weapons at the door.
Stonewall NYC – was the birthplace of the gay rights movement after the riots in 1969. After the Stonewall was raided for the umpteenth the Trannies started rioting, the queens and dykes soon joined in. Probably needed a weapons check back then too 🙂
yeah, my dad showed me the original Stonewall… sounds dodgy but we were big on old school New York history, and it’s a very important place
Stonewall in Aus is a really nice gay club
I agree! Nothing worse than standing around loud, sleazy drunken bogans who think they’re cool because they are at the latest bar/club/bogan hangout. “Oh yeah mate, we’ve been to 8 clubs tonight! It’s been grouse!” It’s quite tragic when people ask me if I ‘went out’ on the weekend, when ‘going out’ or a ‘good night’ to them means getting shitfaced drunk in some crappy bar/club & spending the rest of the weekend recovering. If I say I was at a restaurant, to the bogan it means
I didn’t go out, nor did I have a great night.
Nice photo to accompany the article, to bad it’s a photo of the Irish Club in Subiaco which isn’t a night club and closes by 12!
If only you’d turned your camera only 20 metres to the right you would have had a photo of a prime bogan hang out, Santa Fe! It’s a bogan filled tequila fest masquerading as a mexican restaurant!!!
I thought it was that club in Prahran that had all the Vietnamese gang machete attacks a few years back. They all look alike….
Crappy nightclubs that is, not the Vietnamese
haha
You know we’re all getting old when we’re all bitching about how sh$tty nightclubs are. They were sh$tty in my day, they were sh$tty 10 years ago, they’re still sh$tty now.
Methinks it’s just a rite of passage to go out on the town, be flogged mercilessly by Abe Saffron and his underbelly descendants and be back for more next Saturday night. The difference between us and bogans is that after a year or two of it, you never, ever dream of going back. Ever.
Correct Miaow,
I stopped at about 27, but always went to more pubs than nightclubs. Too noisy, too expensive, need to be in bed by 9.30 coz I’m getting old and hate hangovers and wasting days recovering etc. Nightclubs have always sucked and always will. I prefer a good feed and nice wine at a place where I can hear the conversation and don’t get constantly bumped into by rude nuf nufs.
Yup. I was always a bit of a band head and indeed played in one in my late teens/early twenties. Loved playing grotty pub venues with sweat pouring down the walls and loved going to see live bands. (Still do, though mostly places like the Basement in Sydney these days.) Nightclubs never really appealed. Locally-made imported beer for $8 a bottle? Piss off.
You’re either a live band nut or a nightclub nut I guess. I was in my early teens when punk hit our shores. Rude nuf nufs got nothing on a fully-loaded and looking for kicks boot boy. Or girl.
“re-emerging shortly after to have a smoke, which it only does when clubbing”
I always thought the bogue was a definite smoker, having been born with an addiction fostered through childhood by its parent(s) and into adolescence by its bogan friends and cigarette company marketing. Not so?
Yeah I’ve totally been waiting for a smoking post – would have thought it would be there well before #162 (especially since this is a little bit too much of a re-hash of the velvet rope post for my liking).
While I don’t necessarily think all bogans smoke, I kind of don’t understand how anyone intelligent and worldy and non-bogan can be a smoker.
I mean sure, you might have been young and impressionable back in the day and then that may have led to addiction. But then you quit, and I’ll forgive you for that childish folly.
Maybe today you sometimes bum cigarettes off people when you’ve had a few drinks, and I’ll forgive you for that.
But seriously, how can anyone with any sense of reason buy their own cigarettes and smoke them on a daily basis in 2010?
In my experience bogues like to say I only smoke when I drink but the reality is they huff back a pack a day anyway.
Simon,
That’s because they get trashed every day
True Mr H. Bust a lung skank I say.
Good on you Tomba for quitting.
I quit at the start of the year and although I don’t miss it and wish I’d stopped…oh, I don’t know…20 F&$*ING YEARS AGO AND KEPT THE MONEY, I will say one thing in favour of smoking.
Over the years, I met some of the funniest, coolest and most interesting people I know in Smokers’ Corner, especially after durrying was banned indoors. There was a bizarre sense of affinity, and “may I please have a light” was the easiest of ice-breakers. It was usually quiet enough to have a chat and, if you hit it off, it was a great excuse to catch up later in the evening.
My Beloved and I clicked over a flicked Bic (Oooh! Alliteration!) as did one of my closest girlfriends and I. It always concerns me that I may owe Mr P. Jackson and his rotten product for two of the strongest, central and most enduring relationships of my life.
Tombarina
Not I hope your oncologist and your oxygen tank ?
I’m still a struggling on again, off again smoker. Champix here I come!
Shirl, fight the good fight.
I’m trying, Simon. And of course I wish I’d never started, but quitting is hard, y’all.
Shirl, Champix made the difference for me.
It was the psychological bridge between “I want to quit” and “GIVE ME A F*%KING CIGARETTE NOW BEFORE I RAM THIS F&#KING PENCIL THROUGH YOUR GODDAMN EYE”. Even more so for my Beloved, who didn’t actually use the Champix after about a week, but took comfort from just knowing they were there in the cupboard if he needed them.
JH, thanks to 20 years of abject stupidity, both oncologist and oxygen tank may indeed lie in my future. Thanks for the cheery reminder, my little bluebird of happiness!
I’ve resisted Champix thus far because I don’t like to pop pills. Feel free to laugh away at the irony of this statement. I know I do.
*mirthfully rolls around floor, clutching at sides*
Dude! Get on with it.
It’s going to happen, dude. Mark my words.
I don’t know – it sounds like Mr Jackson received more than adequate consideration from you (and apparently your friend and your beloved) over the years that you probably don’t owe him anything further.
Although, he may yet come to collect from you – an organ or two? Or your fertility? Your child’s ability to participate in sport without ventolin?
Ok, that last one was bit harsh…
An organ is quite possible. Fertility he can have.
My kid, though, is a-OK – didn’t smoke while trying to get pregnant, while preggers, or for a year afterwards; have never smoked in a vehicle with him or, for that matter, the house. I’ve never been one for inflicting my stupidity or dangerous choices upon others.
Nice to hear.
It’s the knowledge that you’re in the minority that gets me riled up.
Yeah Dgusten, driving past Ma and Pa Bogue puffing away in the car with kids in the back and windows up makes me want to, well you know the rest.
As a smoker, I would NEVER smoke in the car with the bambino in it. Or the house, etc. etc.
Having said that, driving, smoking and listening (and singing) to loud music simultaneously is one of life’s greatest pleasures.
I also get riled up by:
1. Bogues who think anti-smoking laws are part of this whole evil “nanny state” business (BTW, is complaining about “nanny state gone mad” a seperate post or part of “political correctness” gone mad”?), despite the fact that passive smoking is proven to be damaging to health (not to mention that its annoying and kinda gross);
2. Bogues who drop their cigarette butts EVERYWHERE.
There’s more that annoys me but that’s it for now.
I don’t go out much anymore, but I did recently for a friends birthday, and EVERYONE ended up in the smoking section of the club, because that’s where the most interesting people could be found.
I always dispose of my butts thoughtfully. Actually, it’s a very rare occurrence that I smoke when I’m out and about, anyway.
Most smokers I know are:
a) interesting people
b) have crossed age 60 with nary a cold or flu in the intervening years.
To part (a) of course can be added Tomba and Shirl 🙂
I think its health effects are overstated. IMO it does no more harm than a dozen other ingested chemicals from alcohol, marijuana+other drugs, standing on a pavement, detergents etc. 100 years on its ban will seem a nanny state decision.
Disclosure: Am a non smoking scientist whose research is not funded by the tobacco industry.
Perhaps smoking does no overall harm than other drugs.
But marijuana and other illegal drugs are rarely used in public and therefore have little effect on others. Meanwhile, alcohol can safely be consumed around other people (as long as you don’t drink too much and decide to drive or glass a cunt or such like).
Whereas smoking is actually a drug that harms and annoys other people.
Smoking bans in restaurants, bars, sporting venues, covered areas of public transport, workplaces and anywhere around children have extremely widespread public support and I highly doubt they would ever be viewed as a nanny state decision.
Banning eg the sale of cigarettes is a different story…
But cigarette companies are so friggin evil that I have a massive problem letting them profit so heavily from what they do.
i used to work at the australian technology park in redfern. one time we were evacuated because of a gas leak outside one of the labs there. most of the smokers lit up as soon as they got out the door. despite the highly flammable gas in the air, they wouldn’t wait the extra 30 seconds until they’d walked to the safe evacuation point.
Simon,
Don’t you have a Glock in the door pocket ?
that is no alliteration
@ Tombarina
I am certainly old enough to know better than to smoke…well, cigarettes, anyway!
In my discussions in recent posts with P!nky, I have discussed my own matters of recovery from depression in hospital recently and the most efficacious part of my most recent admission was amongst the “orange group”, i.e. the smokers area there (they have group therapy sessions named as colours; orange is a colloquialism that refers to the nicotine stained fingers).
During this stay, I happened upon some very creative and intelligent fellow patients, of whom are primarily smokers. Being notionally a non-smoker myself, albeit one who indeed appreciates the occasional cigar or toke, I felt that to fit better within that group, I purchased my first pack of Marlboro Menthols since 2001, to do as the Romans do, so to speak (either of my preferred means would be off-putting in the case of the former and have me turfed out in the latter!). Thankfully, I do have the nicotine habit and feel no urge to light up during my own time—I just suppose I’m extremely fortunate when it comes to all substances, in my being able to take them and leave them, not letting use become abuse.
If I feel so inclined to light up, at least have something with a bit of flavour and/or desirable effect! And in this case, I don’t mind, because the company I keep now are worth the bother. Paradoxically though, I do take far better care of both my physical and emotional health these days, so I do come out with a net positive. It’s only a problem when you don’t take steps to mitigate their nasty effects, which of course the bogan simply doesn’t factor in and do.
Yeah, I know smoking’s a dopey pastime, but if it isn’t a habit as such, I can take it (and leave it, too). I could think of far worse things I could do!
Hurrah, I’ve happened upon a half-decent nightspot in Dullsville (Perth, not Leederville, which is one of the city’s inner suburbs and café and club strips), the Double Lucky. Any place that seems to repellent to bogans…well, on Thursday nights anyway, where they have “Lucyk Dip”, an open mic stage for artistic performances, and are aimed at an older (read= more mature acting) set, this is pretty damn fine. Plus they don’t play the music too loud, so you can in fact hold an intelligible conversation, which is essential for those of us in the poetry circles!
Otherwise, there are no shortage of clubs and pubs in Northbridge (entertainment precinct immediately north of the CBD for those who don’t know) that cater for various shades of bogan, be they old school, CUB or NaB. Mind you, Leederville has its own bogan meccas, The Leederville Hotel and The Hip-E Club, the latter I must confess to being a habitué in my earlier clubbing years, for they did have a DJ, but not of the normal self-important variety with wheels of steel, but rather someone whose playlist had revolved around theNuggets compilations of psychedelia, mostly of which would be lost on the bogan set (also had many great conversations with him on the finer points of music history and criticism). Despite the other DJs playing fare which suited the main audience’s whims and the club’s generally seedy and shabby ambience (not too mention the drunkenness and herpes on offer), the Hip-E still gets points for the fact that a former cricketer in the Australian team, Greg Matthews, was forcibly ejected and assaulted by the bouncers—they eat their own kind, too. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer bastard.
And at the Herp-E, the DJ I was speaking of must’ve been the only one in Australia of whom, outside of the haunts of the arty milieu, who had played The Beatles’ “Revolution 9”, the musique concrète Lennon-Ono excursion on the band’s eponymous double white album, rising to the challenge of my dare/suggestion. Mind you, it was just after opening, so it was still rather quiet, but he played it in full nonetheless.
I hope the others there that evening ha their heads mildly fücked by that experience, especially if they were expecting “Blister In The Sun”.
Lol. Classic bogan moment. They play Blister in the Sun and they act like they’ve heard it for the first time. Or “tainted love”, where upon hearing it the bogan acts like it has sophisticated retro tastes. F4cken hell I hate that song.
Marty, I will see your Tainted Love and raise you a Summer of 69.
Both are no-brainer inclusions on the upcoming bogan-friendly Christmas album “The Eighties: Shite and Memories” which will also feature Underneath The Radar, Run To Paradise, Angel In A Centrefold and Jack And Diane.
I’m sure there are dozens of other worthy entries, but I just vommied in my mouth a leeetle bit….
Not the 80’s, but Brown Eyed Girl should be on that CD.
So I’m not the only one who farkin hates van Morrison!
I don’t mind some Van songs, but Brown Eyed Girl can suck my fat one.
Especially the version that substitutes the line about “makin’ love in the green grass behind the stadium with you”, with “runnin’ and a-laughin’, hey hey…”—such smut wouldn’t pass muster amongst some uptight radio stations in 1967, especially in America!
“My, you have grown”: yeah, around the middle! Um bah! Can’t have that in the song!
I like Underneath the Radar and Run To Paradise.
What about Nude School? Remember this one?
I think the 80s were one of if not the best decade for music. But Tainted Love has just been abused like hell.
The 80s were BRILLIANT.
I have a soft spot for Tainted Love. My virgin karaoke experience was with this song. I was at a gay club, and I had a bunch of lesbians writhing around on stage with me. Awesome.
Ha! Mine was Whip It, followed by Baby I Don’t Care. Many an ear bled that night.
Egads – I’d completely forgotten about Nude School. Possibly for the best, too.
Hey, I’m not knocking 80s music – that would be a bit rich, coming from someone who’s doing cartwheels of joy because her grossly overpriced Bon Jovi tix arrived today.
It’s just that there was some truly woeful dross amongst it all, and a lot of the decent stuff has been thrashed to death by the bogan’s maXXXtreme air-guitar arm.
Yeah I agree Summer of 69 sucks. He was faker who somehow made it and it seems influenced everything you see today.
Seems strange somehow that Bryan Adams is a vegan. Bet very few to nil of his fans are, though.
All of those songs aforementioned (except the Painters & Dockers tune, of whom are NOT members of TISM!) are staples at the Herp-E Club, filling the dancefloor with all the usual suspects). The guy I liked very reluctantly would play them at the insistence of management, for not enough punters would gyrate to Count Five’s “Psychotic Reaction”, though I did indeed have many a public grind and pash to that one-and-same tune (the loping beat did lend itself rather well to that and the tempo change at the instrumental break was conducive to furious tongue and fingers through hair action).
If it wasn’t for an outbreak of sanity available in Leederville I don’t think I would bother hanging around Perth anymore.
But, in saying that, if the bogues start intruding anymore than they do now I’m over it. I’ll see if I can rent a room on Christmas Island on my time off and stay there with people of interest.
oops, sorry.
That was supposed to be a reply for BO’T.
@ Mick
Like Perth’s drinking water, all the good stuff is well underground and after sounding out, you have to burrow deep to find the right seam, otherwise you end up in a dark, dank, but ultimately dried-up boring hole, just as desiccated as the surface. And like aquifers, you also have to replenish by contributing to the supply.
I’m now fortunate that I have just discovered a few new groups of likeminded souls in this City That Always Sleeps, who aren’t all about who is making the most money for jam: this has helped immensely in my improvement in my outlook of life, no less. I thought that artistic ventures were something that I could only do in isolation and that there was no social outlet—well at least of like minds, which I certainly didn’t experience in the camera club I was associated with, which were mostly “nice” suburban types, for whom I have little in common—for me to both express my creativity and to socialise with.
Fostering these with both the poetry club and community jam sessions, this allows me to live in an oasis of culture, inspiration and ideas amongst the malignant encroaching consumeristic (and quite literal) desert that Perth can be all-too-often.
Do bogues still scream “play some chisel ya carnts” or is it now “Wheres the farkin GaGa”?
Bogans don’t like Gaga (farkin weirdo), they like David Guetta ! Yeah Ibiza!!
Chisools! FARK YEAH!!!
Urgh, actually, no thanks, although I would’ve liked to see a far better vehicle for Don Walker’s songwriting prowess, undoubted in my mind as it is.
Exhibit A: Sarah Blasko’s treatment of “Flame Trees”.
I still fondly remember Saturday nights at Hill St, Hurstville. Saturday nights were “Grab a Granny” night, where we 17 to 18 year old men about town would cast a watchful eye out for Stifler’s mum. The nice man on the door would give you a discount voucher for the food you had to pretend you were going there to eat.
After you did several trips to the bar during happy hour, shoes squelching and sticking to the alcohol drenched carpet, it would hit 9pm and you’d grab your girl, or in the inevitable absence of a girl, a fellow drunk and join in as the entire building bellowed “Iiiiiiiittt’s nnnniiiiiiinnnnneeeee o’clock on a Saturday” as they turned up Billy Joel’s “Piano Man”….ah, good times. You don’t see that anymore. Now Hill St is an Asian gambling den. not a granny in sight.
Methinks your sense of self worth at this juncture of your life would have been been better served by a trip too the local knock shop rather than a night at Hill St Hurstville.
wow, hill st hurstville – i was too young when it was still a club, but it looked really dodgy just passing on the train to and from school. then again, probably was still a step up from peaky pub. on a relevant sidenote, a guy from my primary school sued peakhurst pub after he tried to climb in through the upstairs balcony and was beaten up by the security guard who lived there, after having been refused entry because he was very obviously too young. then there was the guy in my brother’s year of high school who needed his stomach pumped after getting wasted and eating slugs in the beer garden of oatley pub. such classy venues down this end of town.
Ah 136 Forest Rd……often ogled but never entered…..
182 Canterbery Road just down from the Kings Head.
Greetings fellow TBL’ers !!
I am back from my 2 week UK sojourn .. and have enjoyed the latest TBL offerings indeed!
Apologies for going off topic.. but I shall tell of my harrowing experience at a MacDonalds in Flint, North Wales.
Whilst stopping there to buy a chocolate shake (and to use the facilities after a long drive from Brecon), I witnessed a most distressing spectacle.
Not sure what a Welsh bogan is called… but anyway… there was a family of them, and Little Mr Jones the Younger.. all of about 1.5 years (maximum) was perched happily in his high chair, munching away at his cheeseburger, with a small fries splayed out across the tray of his chair like a grim buffet. Little Miss Jones the younger and Miss Jones the even younger were happily devouring their happy meals. Mother Jones, (well it was either Mother Jones, or the franchise owner had bought the Jabba the Hutt puppet machine from the set of Return of the Jedi and set it up in his restaurant)… anyway… Mother Jones was happily tucking into half the menu.
My question being.. is 12 – 18 months old an appropriate age to feed one’s infant a cheeseburger meal?
ALAS!
Of course it is! Macdonald’s is gourmet food for bogans & the earlier the kiddies develop a taste for it, the better!
Ah Antosha !,
Good to see you back and in fine fettle.
The answere is : It is probably,considering the diet of the mother, far better then “Mothers Milk” !!
Have you seen what goes into baby’s bottles these days? I frequently see Milo, coke and juice. and the WHO recommends breastmilk as a large part of a child’s diet for the first two years…
Yes Greetings indeed Mr Hunter!
T’was a fine journey through the UK countryside… with but a handful of bogan sightings (there aren’t too many bogans around Foyers Bay, Bath or Crickhowell).
But I must say, I very much agree with this post after witnessing the 1st weekend of the Edinburgh festival. Seems most people there preferred to stand on footpaths as well! But I guess being able to legally consume one’s beer on the footpath, and the fact that the pub inside was packed like a German Music Festival accounts for the tendancy to remain outdoors.
Antosha,
Ah, Edinburgh , Well At lest the Scots are civilised, compared to the Poms , that is . !!!
I just encountered a bogan on the bus. I live in a fairly genteel suburb so this is pretty rare. This led to some interesting observations, namely because public transport highlights most glaring social and personal deficiencies of the bogan.
Since the bogan spends most of its life never venturing far from their self-absorbed bubbles, they show a lack of basic socialisation when thrust into situations that take them out of this comfort zone:
-The bogan can’t moderate their content nor their volume for public spaces.
-They do not fully understand the concept of sharing a public space, and as such have no consideration for the comfort of others.
-The bogan cannot stand not being the centre of attention. This means that their behaviour becomes even more exaggerated on public transport, in the hope that people pay attention to them. In my one encounter this included bugging someone to ask the same thing three times, talking to the bus (i.e. talking to themselves very loudly), and bragging about all the new purchases they’d made (included apparently a $200 Puma hoody). NB: the bogan doesn’t seem to be able to differentiate from be noticed and be paid attention to. Being distracted, annoyed, or generally pissed off at their presence will actually make said bogan try to engage you socially.
-When, contrary to expectations, the bogan is ignored, their behaviour becomes aggressive. This isn’t necessarily overt — in fact this might be a rare case of bogan subtlety. With no one in particular to direct their frustrations, the bogan starts cursing the ride, the whole transport system, complain about the important things they have to do because they are so delayed, or indeed, start shouting at the driver/operator. Since the bogan seems to believe it’s Victorian England, and all public servants are actually in indentured servitude to the Australian populace, they feel “as an Australian” they have to the right to swear and shout at bus drivers and train stewards for trivial and irrelevant matters.
While I am only a neophyte in boganthropology, I hope my experiences are of some use to the esteemed maintainers of this important compendium.
What?
boganthropology – wonderful.
I used to work in the Botany area and have to take the bus back to the CBD. I’m all too aware of the behaviour you recently experienced, liger. Often the trains aren’t much better on a Friday/Saturday evening as the Bogues emerge from their Central Coast bolt-holes to “go clubbin'”.
Kristy Fraser Kirk;
coming soon to a
MaxXx MarxXxson
near you.
sells itself
liger (napoleon? Nice.)
LOL. Correction. “Sweet”.
magic skills too.
LOL. Heck yes!
My fav place is Hunters-aka… or what ever it’s called now in sutherland, mad fun when boyle street pub closes and the old school bogans stagger out, its on for young an old!
Used to be $5 cover charge, now it $10 so I don’t go anymore. Sutherland Shire “clubs” are funny as though.
Vortex and Wake the Dead were fun in the city!
Ah, I remember Vortex, and Ritual, and Kontrol… those were the days.
i think this story tops all glassings put together: http://news.ninemsn.com.au/world/7938679/woman-accused-of-driving-stiletto-through-mans-brain
“She may have done it accidently” Well we’ve all been there…Driving a stiletto through some annoying f#ckers eye socket whilst scnhickered.
“It may have been while she was getting out of the car”
So he was lying in the gutter, asking for it really.
of course he was. if he didn’t want a stiletto to the eye he should have moved.
I hope the ignorant sod didn’t ruin her nice shoes.
he should pay to get them resoled – so hard to get blood out of a heel.
I’m surprised he didn’t claim they were 8 inches.
Viv,
wonder if he got the point ??
I wonder how long it will take his injuries to fully heel?
Antosha,
Mah man , you got soul !
Careful with those puns Mr Hunter… we don’t want to step on too many toes…
Antosha,
10,10,10,10,10
Centre of the podium.
In time boguettes will call it a “stilly”. once it catches on;
“I fukcin’ stillied the cnut!”
WTF with bogans and doggerel?
esp. @ weddings and funerals. I saw a boguette doing doggerel at a funeral for her dad on the news which would give Our Bec’s nuptial tripe a run for it’s monies.
Doesn’t rhyming in couplets just give a eulogy that little extra frisson of emotion?
Subject was wearing a mad pair of stillys.
Chubby,
You can tell he’s been “stilled” ’cause of how “still” he is !
It’s just a matter of time before STIHL releases their own brand of stilly.
“Quality chainsaws, trimmers and footwear”
Antosha,
complete with kick back guard
aaah… touche Mr Hunter..
How ever did I survive these last 2 weeks sans internet??!?!?!?!
Antosha,
Sounds like you had gone to a better place.
totally agree with Chairman Miaow: the scene was bad in my day, just like 10 years ago, just like today. Difference is they sweep the floor more often now, and have added new lighting instead of strings of Christmas lights stapled to the ceilings.
In reference to this matter of bogans loving the pavement out the front of nighclubs, a girl local to my area (eastern suburbs of melbourne) at Datoka recently lost control of her bowels on the footpath in the v.i.p. line due to
a. some sort of relaxant drug or
b. alcohol poisoning.
Subsequently, the footpath had to be hosed down after this horrific incident.
The dakota nightclub owner was quite mortified and apparently very upset that the image and reputation of the club would be affected by this
my friends and i found this both hilarious and sad at the same time. Has anyone ever heard of this happening before?
Sounds EXACTLY like where I work. No names but hint. Darling Harbour.