#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.


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