In a rare display of patience, the bogan has resisted temptation and waited all year. And when, on January first, it wakes up with fireworks and the familiar clink of Jägerbombs still ringing in its ears, it is ready to act. The bogan vows that this year will be different. This will be the year that it shows “them”. That afternoon it compiles a lengthy list of goals, revelling in the arbitrary sense of occasion that the first day of the year grants to such a list. It vows to become fitter, happier, more productive, more spiritual, more maxtreme. A key additional benefit of this process for the bogan is the opportunity to loudly announce these proposed changes, receiving supportive nods and counter-boasts from fellow bogans. These conversations please the bogan.
On January 2, the bogan digs out its pair of sports shorts, and marches off to Fitness First to sign up for 12 months. On January 3, it enrols in a short course that will provide it with the singing skills to dominate Australian Idol. On January 4, it buys the leather-bound tome that will house its much-anticipated family tree project. On January 5, it attends the gym. On January 6, it is virtually immobile due to the volume of bicep curls it insisted on doing. On January 11, it returns to the gym, somewhat humbled, and increasingly aware that getting either huge or svelte will take quite some time.
A month later, its sports shorts are back in the drawer, buried under the sedimentary layer of its bourbon-stained Southern Cross Australia Day attire. The first six hours of the singing course failed to transform it into a pop idol, so it blamed the teacher for being useless, and discontinued its attendance. One way in which it had become more like a pop idol, however, came via its lack of gym attendance in over three weeks. The bogan’s physique was closer to Susan Boyle’s than it had ever been. The only family tree project that was underway in the McMansion was the female bogan nagging its spouse to take the baubles off the dead pine limb in the rumpus room, and cart it out to the nature strip so it could become someone else’s problem. Not an ideal outcome, but the bogan knows that it must wait until January 1 next year before it can ponder new targets.