Where whales blow and men chunder

These days you hear so many Brits harping on about how great Australia is and how they long to live there etc. Well, I think it’s time to bring a bit of balance to the subject. I was there in the mid 90s touring a show (see here) and I had a shitty time. For a start it was freezing cold, I was nipped on the arse by a Kafkaesque roach the size of a Jack Russel while using the ‘dunnie’ and literally no-one seemed to hear me when I told them I was allergic to prawns. I was hoping the whale watching trip I’d booked would salvage the whole trip somehow, but, as you can see, I waited three and a half hours for one of the buggers to finally show itself and at the precise moment it did our stage manager Scooter lost his breakfast of, wait for it, prawns over the side.
I was glad to get on a BA 747 home to Blighty and Bargain Hunt, but Scooter was in love with the place and stayed on. Last I heard he’d opened a successful chain of tanning salons for pasty ex-pats called TanPom “50% off, no strings attached”. Each to their own.