The scarf is like the red flag to the raging Perth male. Why are Melburnians constantly trying to look like a horny Michael Hutchence at a doorknob convention? Obviously the temperatures may drop, so make sure to bring your Ugg boots to wear with your shorts. On the topic of shorts, It’s like these Eastern coast cock cradlers have an allergy to the most versatile piece of bottom half clothing on the planet. You may even see people wearing a belt with their pleated European shorts. Oh and get this, not one bottle opener attached to a back pocket in sight. The horror.
2. Native lingo How does one describe the level of wankery these people speak with? Well, blue balled meth junkie on hour 6 of his drug induced wank over a Chemist Warehouse cold & flu tablet sale levels of wankery. A middie is a “pot”, a billie is a “bueg”, a pinga is a “goog” and a war-crime atop their skull is a “fresh cut”. Oh when you try to make small chat with one about the shitcunt weather you will be assaulted with this little ditty, “you know what they say, 4 seasons in one day!” Fuck. It’s almost like they are proud of the fact their weather is more unpredictable than the quality of a large Whopper meal at 11pm on Wellington Street. 3. Coffee Where the fuck is my Muzz Buzz super grande cup with a straw? The Melburnians considers the “jumbo” coffee to be vulgar and you must be prepared to calm your anger when you feel paying $3.50 for a “poofter-size” coffee is extortionate. Try a breathing exercise or focus on the phenomenon of Melbourne blokes catching up over a coffee. Not just during work hours either, on weekends. Why not a beer? Fuck knows, mate, fuck knows. 4. Meth
Don’t worry, that's still around. Best to run the obstacle course of hookers and street-loons to St Kilda “Beach”, where like in Cuntishi’s Castle, you must navigate the syringey obstacles until you find your medicine. After all, Perthy needs his juice.
5. Beach Lyfe
If you travel out of Melbourne you will be greeted with sub-par beaches with water colder than Tony Abbott’s speech at his sister’s gay-reception. However, if you choose to swim in the bay, remember to try and go to your happy place, Trigg or Leighton. The experience will be sandy and disappointing - like your first premature ejaculation on Pinky’s Beach.
Matty stares angrily at his pint of beer, “$11.60, seriously?” His friends can tell that he is a few dollars away from one of his infamous anti-Perth rants. A bar chick brings over some menus for the table. Matty stares at the Steak Sandwich: $32, and he knows it will come with a pitiful handful of chips. Matty needs a moment to compose himself.
“So sick of this shit guys, did you know in Melbourne you can get a pub meal for $10? Any day of the week?” His friends know whats coming. They rarely call Matty up on his outlandish statements. In Matty’s eyes Melbourne is the land of milk and honey: where pints are $5 and every coffee is god damn award winning shit. A strong opinion for a man that has only been over the ditch twice for a couple of Footy weekends.
On Matty’s break at work, he scrolls through the Jetstar website, checking the price of flights to Melbourne, “$400 one way! Perth is a god damn remote galaxy”. After work Matty has a few too many drinks and starts rambling to his workmates about joining him on the trip of a life time. His half cocked plan is to drive over the Nullarbor in his ‘88 Mitsubishi Lancer and they will start a new life, in the paradise of Melbourne. They humour him, but it’s a familiar chicken dance, and they have simply stopped believing it.
Matty pays $40 for a taxi from Mount Lawley to Victoria Park. He explains to the taxi driver that if he was in Melbourne he could’ve just jumped on a tram. The taxi driver wishes he jumped on the tram. Saddened by his existence in Perth, Matty goes home and googles pictures of the MCG while slowly masturbating. One day he will make the move… one day.