#229 – Your Favourite Bar

30 05 2011

You probably think your favourite bar is too well hidden, too small and contains too many bearded patrons to ever appear on the bogan’s colonisation radar. An oasis of reason amid an ever expanding desert of bogan-inflicted chaos, your favourite bar is one of few remaining places with immunity to the boganic plague. Run by an owner-operator, it might host some low key live tunes, and is probably even within walking distance of your house. There is no dress code. There are no commercial remixes. No one ever tries to fight you. It’s never too full. There is no ‘list’. And there is never a line to get in.

But be warned. The bogan is coming. Once content with mass glassings and gropings to a top 40 remix soundtrack at high capacity beer barns located on major arterial roads and shopping strips, the bogan now has an inkling that it is missing out on something. Like a child coveting the toy that the other kid has because the other kid has it, the bogan wants to take your favourite bar from you not because it really wants it, but because it doesn’t want you to have it.

The bogan will learn of your favourite bar when the trashmedia report that an actor from Underbelly went there once. Like a moth to your computer screen in a dark room, the bogan will not be able to resist but get in your way. When the invasion begins, you will at first passively resist. If you just ignore them, they’ll have no reason to bother you, and they will soon realise that it’s not their scene, you will think to yourself.

But things will soon begin to change. Despite the bar’s stunning variety of local and imported beers, Corona and Becks will dominate sales, along with any kind of explosive beverage. Orange-skinned femme-bogues will start dancing in the middle of the place, even though there is no dancefloor and it’s never really been a place where people dance. They will then get bored and complain loudly that they’ve “never heard this song before. Play some Kings of Leon!’ Drinks will cost more after bashings and glassings see the bar attain ‘high-risk’ status leading to higher liquor licensing fees, and bogans are willing to pay for more for far inferior drinks. Finally, your favourite bar will be purchased by a football player, or Woolworths, and turned into a pizza bar.

Game Over.

PS: Check out last week’s post at Macrobusiness, which we forgot to link to last week…