Kurma

I was shopping today for a trio of cookery classes. An elderly lady and gentleman ahead of me at the supermarket checkout line were pushing half a trolley full of packaged bleeding body parts. I had to ask the checkout chick to wipe off the little pools of leaked blood left on the conveyor before I loaded on my vegetarian groceries.

It seems cannibalism in Australia is still rampant. After all, those plastic-wrapped cadavers were once our brothers and sisters.

All this reminded me of a recent advertising campaign promoting the eating of dead baby sheep to celebrate Australia Day, by Aussie-icon ex-footballer arch-buffoon Sam Kekovich. Though semi tongue-in-cheek, it sums up what lurks in the collective carnivorous Australian psyche.

"There’s nothing worse than being unAustralian. I should know, I’ve been Australian all my life. And I’m sickened by the creeping tide of unAustralianism eroding our great traditions, like our custom of eating lamb on Australia Day.

UnAustralianism is everywhere. For example, people wearing those plastic, brightly-coloured flip-flop shoes with flowers on them. What’s wrong with rubber thongs in simple primary colours? And if I hear another person say “thong", when they mean those swimming costumes poncey Brazilian blokes wear up their bums, I’ll do my block.

Sadly, the scourge of unAustralianism has even infected our national day. A balanced Australia Day diet should consist of a few nice, juicy lamb chops and beer. And perhaps a bit of pavlova for those with a sweet tooth.

Yet your long-haired, dole-bludging types are indulging their pierced tastebuds in all manner of exotic, foreign, often vegetarian cuisine: Chicken burger value meals, pizzas, a number 42 with rice... It’s an absolute disgrace. And people ask why we need capital punishment.

Do you think the diggers in the trenches were fighting for tofu sausages? No. They were thinking of grabbing a lamb chop off the barbie with their bare fingers, sustaining third degree burns, then sticking their hands into a relieving esky to fish out a cold one.

Look at our national song, Waltzing Matilda. It’s about a bloke trying to get a nice bit of lamb into his tuckerbag, not spicy chicken wings!

The soap-avoiding, pot-smoking, hippy vegetarians may disagree with me, but they can get stuffed. They know the way to the airport, and if they don’t I’ll show them.

So the message is clear, even for you backpackers: roll out the barbie, ensure the gas bottle’s filled, stack the fridge full of lamb, and prepare the invitation list. So don’t be unAustralian. Serve lamb on Australia Day.

You know it makes sense, I’m Sam Kekovich.'

I'm sorry to say that sometimes I think the term 'Australian Culture', especially when it comes to eating, is an oxymoron. Unfortunately, the habit of two-legged Australians eating Australians with four legs is still firmly entrenched in our mealtime consciousness.

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