#65 – Frangipani Stickers

15 01 2010

The motor vehicle has come to be very important to the bogan female. In the same way that getting a tattoo of a dolphin allows her to remain more feminine and nurturing than the bogan male, she also rarely purchases a V8 vehicle, lest the bogan male become threatened and confused. A four cylinder car is typically purchased, generally from an Asian manufacturer. The female bogan does not like Asians, so she sets about Australianising her car with American Playboy merchandise (sexy), a clumsily abbreviated personalised numberplate (witty), and a Roxy sticker by US-based Quiksilver (athletic).

The vehicle is almost ready for bogan female use, but the female still yearned for an automotive decoration that would communicate to bogan males that she was an appropriate mother for his children. Somewhere along the line, a marketing executive decided that it should be the Frangipani, a Latin American flower that was interestingly remade to denote “ignorant racist Australian” in stylised sticker form. Pleased that their cultural sensibilities were finally being catered to, the female bogans purchased these stickers in staggering amounts.

Soon the craze expanded beyond car stickers, with Frangipanis appearing on anything that the marketing executives thought it could con the bogan female to buy. Skimpy t-shirts, car seat covers, fridge magnets, and random other disposable tripe. With simplified drawings of tropical flowers surrounding her at all times, the bogan female feels that she is fulfilling her true life’s purpose: to be a princess (despite lacking any regal attributes other than greed and territorialism).

On a recent trip through bogan territory, a TBL author did some investigatory journalism into the Frangipani cult. Three bogan females were asked what their floral automotive stickers stood for. The responses were brief. “Australia”, “Peace and love”, and “Haha, dunno mate”. Aside from a visible shudder at being called “mate” by a nasal female stranger, the author stood his ground admirably amidst the torrent of cluelessness. The “peace and love” response was arguably the most interesting, considering that any car with Frangipani stickers is approximately 245% more likely to change lanes without indicating, emit smouldering cigarette butts whilst in motion, and contain a foul mouthed bigoted bogan female who is twisting one arm into the back seat to thump Jaiydynn and/or Sharnelle. Peace and love.

#64 – Guitar Hero

14 01 2010

The bogan is reliably informed that successful rock bands get shitloads of drugs and groupies. The bogan wants these things. Working against its hopes in this instance are a general lack of creative talent, and an unwillingness to apply itself to a task that requires patience and dedication to excellence. Thanks to modern technology, an alternative to these years of glory-free learning has emerged on Playstation, replacing 6 strings and a couple of dozen frets with 5 large, brightly coloured buttons.

While Guitar Hero would seem to be a poor pathway to cocaine and pornstars, it provides the loud noises, flashing lights, and illusion of instant breathtaking skill that stimulates the reward centres in the bogan’s brain. This encourages it to play vigourously, and for extended periods. Raised on a stodgy diet of commercial radio, the bogan recognises a quarter of the songs available in the game’s menu and restricts itself solely to those, staying far longer on the comfortable beginner level than is necessary. This is due to its addiction to the approving roar of the digitised, unwitting crowd, and Aaron’s desire to beat Shane at the guitar solo in “Dammit” by Blink 182 for the 47th time.

The rise in bogan popularity of electronic and dance music in the past decade has made the bogan realise that these days, DJs get at least as many sluts and drugs as rockstars. More than guitar solos, the bogans’ new greatest love is loudly professing their desire to buy ‘some turntables, then go to op shops and buy a bunch of old vinyls’, so they can start scratching like Mixmaster Mike. The game developer behind Guitar Hero (Activision, owned by a French conglomerate that also controls the Universal music label) identified this, and set about stripping revenue from Ministry of Sound by releasing DJ Hero onto games consoles in late 2009.

The plastic guitar is swapped for a plastic turntable, with the bogan-trusted brightly coloured buttons positioned on the “record”. This summer, a bogan nest near you will be lurching to the stuttered sounds of “Around the World” by Daft Punk, as a team of bogans attempts to press their shiny DJ buttons in time with the music in order to become The Hero. The bogan male hopes that by beating its girlfriend or female acquaintance on Hollaback Girl, she will subsequently strip naked and produce a bag of last years designer drug. At the time of writing, there have been no reports of this actually occurring.

#63 – Formal Living Areas

13 01 2010

The bogan covets a restrained life, where conversations convey abstract meaning. A life where merchandising, bright flashing colours, and crass sexualisations are not welcome. When the time comes for a bogan family to design or purchase its dream home, it places immense value in facilitating this classy way of life, and is willing to pay accordingly.

The bogan covets a restrained life, where it may entertain its guests in a proper houseproud manner. A life where it will offer a spread of pre-dinner snacks, a meticulously prepared three course dinner, and then a satisfying post-dinner cigar or cognac in an armchair, while the important issues of the day are robustly debated.

The bogan covets a restrained life, with a formal lounge room and dining room occupying 25% of the floorplan. The dining room contains a hardwood dining table, with matching luxuriously upholstered chairs. Adjacent is a matching hardwood wall unit, which contains Waterford crystal champagne flutes, cloth napkins, and a 57 piece Royal Doulton fine bone china dining set. A life where the post-dinner discussion is conducted on chesterfield leather tub chairs, before a roaring fire. There would be no television in this room, lest the guests fear that their company was not entertainment enough.

The bogan covets a restrained life, and is therefore willing to spend the $15,000 required to furnish these two rooms of their nest in the aforementioned style. A close acquaintance of the bogan, an upstanding chap named Mister Norman, insists that he provides all of the furnishings for the rooms for free*. Flattered, the bogan blushingly accepts the generous offer.

The bogan covets a restrained life, which is why ten years later, Harvey Norman remains good friends with the bogan (despite the occasional robust disagreement over terms and conditions). The formal lounge and dining rooms in the nest also remain as they were.

This is largely because that part of the McMansion has been used a total of 4 times in the intervening decade. Two of those nights were Sundays in the first month, where the bogans fumbled over cheese knives and parfait spoons at the insistence of the adult female, who was quite enjoying the exhibitionist masquerade in front of her friends. Her enthusiasm quickly waned when she realised that the rear projection TV was not visible from the formal dining table, and she was missing Water Rats.

The second two uses came when the bogan female attempted to impress its parents at Christmas time, all fancy. These two events were spaced years apart, as it took her quite some time to forget the unmitigated disaster that her untrained family caused when an open mouthed turkey chew and a guttural yell conspired to send a crystal flute of bubbly into Grandma’s lap.

Last year, one of the family’s teenaged bogans swiped some sort of crooked cup thing to use as a disposable ashtray. Its parents will never realise that their dusty Royal Doulton set now has no gravy boat.

#62 – Sarah Jessica Parker

12 01 2010

This does not make sense. She has not starred in a sex tape. She appears to be happily married to a fairly anonymous actor with only 80s retro-cred. If she is attractive – and this is fiercely debated among bogans – it is not in the conventional, bogan-friendly, Playboy-esque manner of massive cans, peroxide blonde, suggestive air of desperation, availability and likely crack habit. She appears in the trash mags only in the fashion pages. Yet bogans like her. However, upon deeper reflection, there several glaring reasons. Foremost is her stunning lack of acting talent. In a developing bogan paradigm, Ms Parker’s enormous success is both a symptom and a cause of her enormous success.

Bogans have an inherent, deeply ingrained desire to appear in some form of visual entertainment. While they will happily accept an appearance on shows like Rural Fireman Wants a Wife’, the ultimate fantasy, if only a pipe dream, is actual celebrity status for appearing in a genuine motion picture. If someone with as limited capacity for performance as Parker can reach those heights, then it stands to reason that anyone can. Thus, bogans actively sustain her fame and their aspirations simultaneously simply by attending the ‘films’ she appears in. Second, bogan females enjoy supporting a female sex symbol who male bogans insist appears like some kind of cross between a horse and a foot, thereby empowering them further.

Finally, she is predominantly renowned for appearing in Sex and the City, a show which frequently refers to sex – indeed, it is in the title – as well containing simulated sex scenes and exposed breasts. At the same time, the programme (and eventual ‘film’) dressed up this titillation under the guise of ‘female empowerment’, allowing the bogan to watch a show that offered breasts or constant references to high-value couture brands, while maintaining they did so out of interest for the wellbeing of women.

Sex and the City began life as an edgy, funny niche show about single women in their thirties – sexy, independent, selfish and fabulous. However, bogans were drawn to the promiscuity of the lead characters, along with their rampant consumerism. TV network execs soon realised advertisers would give anything to get in front of an audience this impressionable. Thus the show began to change, to more accurately reflect the bogan fantasy.

The show and eventual ‘film’ entrenched in the bogan mind the feminine ideal; periodically discussing sex in an overt and occasionally graphic manner, while shopping ferociously for designer brands they cannot afford. Moreover, Ms Parker’s character wound up reaffirming the feminist notion that a woman undoubtedly is not happy until she can land a man – preferably a wealthy one at that. The premiere of Sex and the City 2 will be accompanied by deals in which tickets come with a free Cosmopolitan, and viewers will be encouraged to dress in their designer finery. Because that’s how feminists do it. Female bogans would also argue vociferously amongst themselves over which of the ‘girls’ they ‘were’, even though each was in essence a sketch of one quarter of an actual human being.

In her latest ‘film’, Ms Parker gets around acting as Hugh Grant’s faux-wife, while wearing cowboy hats in the American high country. No doubt hijinx ensue. No doubt bogans will attend.

#61 – (Even More) Ed Hardy

11 01 2010

We were wrong.

When we first started Things Bogans Like, we figured that a few cheap shots at Ed Hardy would be appropriate. After, all, we could see, firsthand, the encroachment of Ed Hardy replacing the briefly-flaming Von Dutch as the nouveau bogue uniform of choice. We witnessed the incidences of garishly dressed folk stalking what are quaintly referred to by local police as ‘nightclub precincts’ in all major cities of Australia. This, despite the best efforts of governments who have tried to ban alcohol from all venues that have tigers painted on the walls.

But we have made a discovery. We were wrong. Ed Hardy is no mere clothing line. Little did we know the staggering branding juggernaut that Ed Hardy had rapidly become.

Ed Hardy is a bowling alley. It is a vodka. It is a perfume. It is – wait for it – an drink. Bogans, it seems, simply cannot get enough Ed Hardy. Not satisfied with strange clothes, the bogan now, after a day at the gym or tanning salon, wants nothing more than heading down to the Ed Hardy bowling alley. It will play a few games while putting away a few HardyBombs (it bears mentioning at this point that, because of the equally successful branding attached to Jagerbombs, all bogan alcoholic drinks must now be an explosive of some kind) before heading next door to listen to cover bands pump out the latest tune by Kings of Leon at the ‘Rock’ Bar.

This is true inspiration on the part of the evil geniuses at Ed Hardy. A vodka and an energy drink. All with brightly coloured tigers splashed on every available square inch of packaging. But it gets better – the energy drink is marketed as a ‘celebrity energy drink’. Wait…that noise you just heard was the sound of about 200,000 bogans simultaneously soiling themselves in quivering excitement at the sheer notion of a celebrity energy drink (in massive cans) with colourful tigers.

But it doesn’t end there. With bogans, it never, ever, does. Ed Hardy also lend their name to beer, wine, baby clothes, snowboards, motorbike helmets, watches, an air freshener, iPhone covers, car seat covers, handbags, sheets, towels, a cologne, pet accessories, sunglasses, hookahs (seriously), tobacco (for the hookahs – including the forthcoming ‘Pirate’s Cave’ flavour!), lanyards, stubby holders, cigarette lighters, luggage, stationery, computers and computer cases, acrylic nails, gumboots, tanning lotion, ugg boots, umbrellas, wallets and purses, greeting cards, guitars (acoustic and electric), (mandatory at the bowling bar), shower curtains, curling irons and , calendars and ski goggles. All covered with the skulls and cartoon evil that makes the bogan feel simultaneously tough and cutting edge.

The bogan, wanting to be ahead of the game that everyone else is playing, is on a mission to drape itself in as much Ed Hardy merchandise as possible, in much the same way they will buy up Kings of Leon’s old albums, in an effort to tie themselves to a band they were aware of only three weeks prior.

The spread of Ed Hardy may not ever end. Or, more likely, the bogan will grow weary of Ed Hardy, particularly when the nascent move of bogans into the flannel/country shirt spreads, making the overt garishness of horned, flaming animals suddenly tasteless in bogan eyes. Thus, flannel shirts will start coming in bright orange. And the cycle begins anew, as Mr Audigier looks to the next foregone cultural trend to pilfer.

#60 – Going to Work in the Mines

8 01 2010

The young bogan male craves adventure and violence, and the military offers the opportunity to undertake this without the threat of arrest, but with the threat of death. As a result, it is significantly more common to loudly profess a desire to join the army, than to actually join it. Instead, the bogan can get his adventure in Western Australia, forgoing the chance to kill things for the chance to dig a big hole and earn a stupid amount of money.

He isn’t actually going off to war, but the bogan’s family and friends will treat his departure in a similar solemn ceremonial way. Whilst in a remote area of Western Australia, the bogan will ply his modest skillset, be it at boilermaking, engineering, food preparation, or holding a traffic signpost, earning in excess of $500 a day. This financial windfall opens the glittering door to hyper-bogan consumption. Within months, he is playing GTA on his new 800 inch LCD TV, ripping donuts in his shiny ‘Chevrolet’ Ute, and drinking phenomenal amounts of locally brewed Stella Artois.

His roster allows him a few consecutive days off each month, which he uses to fly down to Perth with his new mining buddies. They’re there for a good time, not a long time, and the wallets are bulging. They saunter with an aura of invincibility that can only be derived from waging war on the frontier, though in this case the adversary is a pristine natural environment. At the poker tables at Burswood casino, they gamble beyond the realm of any sense. The local card sharks generally pocket thousands of mining dollars thanks to their superior cardplaying skills, making the bogan squadron irritable. Eventually they retreat to the strippers to tuck $50 notes into garter belts and drink more Stella.

After a couple of years of this, the bogan returns home from war to a hero’s welcome. He is tanned, he has more Christian Audigier products than anyone in his suburb, and almost instantly there is a Jet Ski trailer hitched to the back of the Chevrolet. Soon though, the money runs out. His one man commodity boom is over, and the reality of a normal income level kicks in. He can’t afford to go to the casino so often, the strippers have stopped treating him like a celebrity, and a new model of Ute has been released that he’s unable to get finance for. Bitter with the world, he contents himself with cutting off people when merging lanes, calling pedestrians poofs, and thinking back to the time when he was king.

#59 – Joining Moronic Facebook Groups

7 01 2010

The bogan likes to belong. It also craves a sense of order and purpose. The emergence of social networking spaces such as Facebook has given the bogan the means to indulge this higher order need to a spectacular degree. It can now proudly pledge its allegiance to a dizzying array of asinine interests, as long as it is worded in bad grammar and has at least two misplaced apostrophes.

Inexorably, the bogan will gravitate towards groups that have in excess of 10,000 members, a reassuring sign that the majority is on board its Titanic of dreams. The flotsam ranges anywhere from uninformed social/political causes (“// speak FUCKIN ENGLISH), to harebrained irony (““), to stationery (“) or to a simple expression of the will to live (“/“). There is also the non-political cause – such as “ <> “.

Even more, the bogan will join groups that simply state something utterly banal, but allows the bogan to feel better that they are not the only one who appreciates the cool touch of unused pillow case on hot summer skin. Here is a brief list (please assume that the bulk of these are followed by (sic)):

The bogan will then use this space to post one comment, generally in fervent agreement with the page’s thrust, then proceed to completely forget that they ever signed up. This leads to a new, sure-fire bogan-identification method, thanks to the good folk at Facebook and their new Orwellian ‘privacy’ settings. Simply click on the profile of a suspected bogan. Check for the number of groups the person is a member of, or pages they are a ‘fan’ of. There is, of course, a clear correlation between the number of pages listed, their inanity, and the individual’s level of web-savvy boganinity.

Eventually, the bogan is member of a critical mass of pointless groups that allow the discerning observer to accurately define the particular type of fuckwit they are dealing with. Thus, an individual that is a part of the “ group should be avoided just like that pesky backpacker hawking Dolphin safety. Like a dirty fingerprint, the bogan swipes an attempt at uniqueness, only to signal to the world which types of ignorance and stupidity it cherishes the most.

Another option is joining the Facebook group for a blog about , proceeding to ignore the blog that the Facebook page was created to promote, then posting inane comments on the Facebook page that fundamentally revolve around the fact that bogans are, in their estimation, poor people.

However, its highly limited attention span will ensure the transience of its affiliations. One minute it joins “ , and just as it ponders signing up to ““, it has decided that it now belongs to “” – all in the space of 15 minutes. It will then get bored with joining groups, and resume its game of Farmville.


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