The Races

Anyone who has spruced up for Carnival Day knows that ‘a day at the races’ has more to do with a 1976 Queen album than it does with horse racing. In fact, this article was initially entitled ‘Horse Racing’ until your author realised this alludes to a completely different topic of conversation than the current one. While trainers and jockeys – not to mention the horses – have my complete respect, the names of particular races or horses are none to memorable for the average race-goer.

After two hundred years of racing history, the races are the third most attended sporting event in Australia after the AFL and Rugby League. Although this could be tied to an alcohol-induced equine fetish, a more likely explanation would be the $12.5 billion we spend gambling on the nags annually. Our betting-dependent national economy was born in 1913 when Australian, George Julius, invented the mechanical totalisator or tote – which led to state-based ‘Totalisator Agency Boards’, commonly known as the TAB. 

Australia's Greats Sportsman

For those who have not frequented Randwick or Flemington, there is far more to do than just betting on horses – struggling through the crowd and lining up at the bar helps pass time between races. As for the crowd, one immediately notes the common segregation between the Toffs (Members) on one side of the fence and the Plebs (General Admission) on the other. For the purposes of this discussion, the are two - more distinct - groups spoken of, which are the Regulars and the Riff-Raff.

Regulars: Although there is a lot of Old Money at the races, this category is not reserved specifically for wealthy Members. This group consists mainly of middle-aged, male, practiced gamblers and bookies – whether they don a Savile Row suit or the familiar grey hue of Hanes trackies. While not all are desperate gamblers, there is ever-present concern and concentration on their faces; not even the scantily-clad women distract the Regulars from the tote. Accessories include: leather-bound formbooks, piles of betting tickets, reading glasses/binoculars.

Riff-Raff: The more common category by far, made up of the multitude of over-dressed trashbags in the general area and the lucky trashbags who know/are related to someone in the Members. Mainly consisting of Maxi-Taxis full of Bucks and Hens, the Riff-Raff spend their rapidly-fading youth reliving the Year 10 School Formal; urine-soaked trousers and all. With little interest the actual event, this group single-handedly supports the Australian fake tan industry and Kelly Country Warehouse. Accessories include: terrible shoes (even I can tell), unnecessary waistcoats, inflatable dildos/sex dolls, various venereal diseases.

For the record, your author falls unashamedly in the second category* and is happy to keep the races an occasional outing with an even more occasional win. The races are a gift horse’s orifice not to be fiddled with and this dapper-dressed depraved den might not be everybody’s plastic cup of beer. However, if you want to cover your bets, press against the rails, go both ways and pick a winner, this event is for you – who knows, you might even like the horse racing?

* Although my suit was expertly tailored by cheap Vietnamese labour, thanks.

Coffee

While observing passersby during a procrastinational wander to the local coffee shop, I began to appreciate the power this aromatic commodity has over the lives of millions on a daily basis. The percolating effects of this beverage are well documented; the varieties of coffee seed* are as numerous as the methods of preparation employed throughout the globe. Until experiencing the run of the mill coffee overseas, you can easily overlook how obsessed Australians are with it.

Part security blanket, part legal high, this black beverage has fascinated mankind for centuries. Legend has is that it was discovered by an Ethiopian goat-herder who noticed that the dancing abilities of his usually uninspiring goats improved dramatically after the consumption of coffee berries. Not until coffee, or qahwa, hit the Arab world in the 1450s do we see written evidence about its consumption or effects. Muslim monks from Yemen documented the spread of this sleep-inhibiting, Ethiopian booze alternative from their home town of – you guessed it – Mocha.

Like all things fun, tasty or mind-altering, coffee had a rough time earning respect amongst God-fearing conservatives. Islamic theologians in Mecca forbade its consumption in 1511, only to have the latte-loving Turkish Sultan overturn this judgement, leading to the world’s first coffeehouse in Istanbul in 1555. As this Muslim beverage spread to Europe, Christians of all kinds feared the “bitter drink of Satan” until Pope Clement VIII’s aromatically decreed in 1600: “This devil’s drink is so delicious…we should cheat the devil by baptising it.”

 The grind of daily life? A bitter-sweet world? Bean around the world and I...I...I...I...?

The rest is foamy, chocolate-sprinkled history. The two species of coffee plant, Arabica (better flavour) and Robusta (strong and cheap), are amongst the most devoured commodities on the planet with Brazil, by far, being the biggest producer while - of all places - Finland is the biggest consumer per capita. An estimated 2.25 billion cups of this stimulating tonic are consumed daily, with over 17,000 Starbucks stores worldwide selling a fair chunk of those. Australia can still boast a respectable cafe culture after sixty-one Starbucks locations were shut down in July 2008**.

Coffee is indeed a culture, one based more on habit than passion, especially around the CBD of Sydney. Thousands of baristas all doing the same thing: learning your name; knowing your usual; quipping a joke or two; charmingly irreverent to the suits and heels lining up each day. Like lemmings we cling to our disposable spouted drinking vessels at nine on the dot every morning. Do we really need that coffee or are do we continue to ride the withdrawals of nicotine’s hey-day?

Wonderfully warm, sensually invigorating and addictively snobby, the devil’s drink has come a long way.  Considering gambling and alcohol can do no wrong in our society, it is only a matter of time before coffee becomes the next daily vice to face the chopping block. While we still have some of the best coffee in the world, enjoy as many kinds as you can. Try a Turkish (sedimentary), a Vietnamese (igneous) or, at the very least, a Labourer’s Latte (conglomerate of Milo and Instant). Remember, if you get the shakes, there’s always the Irish.

* Unfortunately for coffee ‘beans’, they are the seeds of coffee berries.
** Did the same thing happen to Sizzler? How could that possibly fail?

Meetings

White-collar serfs can appreciate the assistance a staple or two to the eyelids can provide when meandering through a coma-inducing list of agenda items. For those who have never experienced the corporate world, meetings are the only activity that can make a group of koalas on a 36-hour gumleaf bender look like an energetic and enthusiastic bunch. Meetings are a church service where a congregation of executives gather to worship their own mutual and perpetual uselessness.

The habitat of mindless managers and their hapless retinue, meetings have a lot more to do with modern language – especially American English – than people care to notice. One can scoff at the verbal acrobatics of politicians and their uncanny ability to wriggle out of answers, yet this skill is more akin to the boardroom than any parliament. After providing these indicative observations robust consideration, shall we rigorously enhance our functionality and facilitate a consultative consensus moving forward?

Fuck no. The reason politicians speak the way they do is because such demonstrable drivel works so effectively in business meetings. Rather than admit fault, fess up to a mistake or ask a straight-forward question, language is devoted to concocting divisive methods to expand simple answers into unintelligible, meaningless rubbish. After falling victim to and being the perpetrator of these techniques, I can only hope to help you, dear reader, to see through the waves of bullshit in business.

"We need to action-plan this issue: chocolate or cinnamon muffins?"

Next time you want to pass the time in a boring meeting, try this game an equally frustrated colleague of mine once suggested. Prepare a list of buzzwords for each contestant (such as collaborative, synergy, traditional silos, stakeholders, implementation, participatory) and keep your pen at the ready. Depending on the verbal habits of the manager in question, the first contestant to complete their list shouts “Bingo!” The aim of the game is to see how many weeks said manager takes to realise the joke is at his/her expense.

There are other means to bring disreputable purveyors of corporate fluff to heel – without risking your job. Meetings create the perfect environment for these simple and effective methods:

• Repeat statements back to the person in plain speech 

“We continue to research supplemental methods for electronic distribution while waiting for industry-wide cohesion on this topic.”
“So, you haven’t done anything yet?”

• Highlight when buzzwords of the day are incorrect

“Can we diarise those dates to further develop of this initiative?”
“Sorry, let me just correctivate my diariser. I biro-ised it incorrectly.”

• Use buzzwords in nonsensical fashion and watch heads nod

“By retroactively going forward, we can align our redundant methods with our future strategic objectives and reduce inactivity in a pro-active fashion.”

Ironically, the bad habits lampooned above are not deplored during meetings, but revered. Bamboozle colleagues as they politely nod with agreement and earn yourself an approving look from your superior.

For the sake of sanity and the English language, take it upon yourself to never say ‘moving/going forward’. I know how tempting it is, but how far we have moved forward as a civilisation without having to say moving forward? Think about what you’re saying: if you’re reconsidering your position moving forward, you’re actually moving backwards; if you think of alternatives moving forward, you’re moving sideways; and if you put me out of my misery and shoot me moving forward, I’m movin’ on up and nothing can stop me.

P.S. If you feel like a laugh, check out Weasel Words for regular updates of ridiculous corporatespeak.

P.P.S. Feel free to submit the best bullshit phrases that plague your own workplace for it would please me well to hear them.

Cricket

With Australia receiving proper spanking in the Ashes thus far, it seemed opportune to discuss this game in the hope of enlightening those who managed to escape the clutches of the British Commonwealth. As a former player (a career spanning ages 9-11) and a devoted fan (radio background noise during barbecues), cricket has a special place in my heart. No other sport can bore and entertain in such equal measure; to the point where, unlike golf, it is often more exciting to watch than it is to play.

Rather than explain the rules and jargon of cricket – a dialect in its own right – let us focus on the operative question: Why bother? More often than not, the key purpose of cricket is to serve as practical, blokey conversation during awkward social silences. Cricket relieves parents for several blissful weeks each summer as their sons and daughters play, while the professional game provides adults with patriotic justification to shirk workplace responsibilities and start drinking at 10am.

Much like football, cricket is as old as Henry VIII’s underpants. Many forms of the game existed, all of which evolved from bored shepherds defending a wicket-gate from a clump of rolled up rags with a sheep crook. Effectively, it was gambling that spurred cricket’s popularity in 17th Century England. The fact that batsmen could bludgeon fielders to death in 1624 may have also played a part. Thenceforth, England donated their national game to the world, providing a major selling point for colonialism. 

Role-model. Athlete. Legend.

The first international cricket match was played in – wait for it – New York, between the USA and Canada in 1844; two years before the first officially recorded baseball game*. By 1882-83, the best known rivalry in cricket was born after England was defeated by ‘mere colonials’ in a thrilling match at The Oval. The Pommy press composed a mocking obituary about the death of English cricket, of which “the body will be cremated and the ashes taken to Australia”. Current circumstances, in all fairness, would make further gloating imprudent.

Cricket is an unusual game, containing unique concepts. Most notable being the Spirit of the Game: an unspoken element which frowns on behaviour which is “just not cricket”. Sportsmanship is highly coveted and, prior to video-umpires, the sport relied heavily on the honesty of players on tight decisions. Reflecting a chivalrous, stoic attitude of yesteryear, cricket resounds of Old Empire – for only a gentleman can consume fifty-two cans of beer on a flight from Sydney to London.

For those who think cricket is boring, all that can be said is…it is. Remember though, that this mind-numbing boredom only adds sparkle to the thrilling highlights that do happen every few hours or so. Cricket produces more than frustrated friends and partners in front of the television; it invigorates our inner sporting legend whenever a tennis ball and K-Mart bat are laid before us and convinces us all that we are doing real exercise.

* Canada won by 22 runs - their first and last international cricket victory.

Shakespeare

For most people, this particular S-word is more offensive than a Justin Bieber Christmas album. Others have successfully repressed this painful phase of their high school education down into the same pit where the hypotenuse and two-point perspective now reside. We are all poised for different vocations, most of which do not involve Shakespeare. Despite this, there is the occasional oddball who believes English is an important subject and tries to force his opinion upon others.

To set the record straight, William Shakespeare was a witty, sarcastic and horny bastard whose real talent lied in taking the piss out of all classes of society measure for measure. For centuries, English professors and ancient academics analysed and deconstructed his plays to the point where – instead of reading them for pleasure – we constantly flick back and forth between explanatory notes trying to figure out what the hell iambic pentameter is.

When Shakespeare started writing in the 1590s, English still played second fiddle to Spanish and French and was not the global language we now all use heaps good. English was always a juicy sponge that absorbed foreign words and the scientific advances of the Renaissance brought with it Latin and Greek terms as well. The ability to employ these new words and create new ones allowed Shakespeare to blossom the creative rose petals of the English language and celebrate the dew-dropped beauty of…

Screw that. Willy’s real talent lied in insulting people and he was adapt at using every word in the dictionary to do so*. After a few moments on a Shakespearian insult generator one can appreciate that ‘Dickhead!’ pales in comparison to ‘Thou whorespun imputent embossed rascal!’ With over fifty different variations, 'Knave' was by far Shakespeare’s most inventive slur, one that could so aptly be applied to The Big Lebowski – oh if only such a play existed. A few examples include:

foul knave; lousy knave; beastly knave; scurvy-railing knave; bacon-fed knave; wrangling knave; base notorious knave; poor cuckolding knave; counterfeit cowardly knave; pestilent complete knave; stubborn ancient knave; rascally scold beggarly knave; or beetle-headed flap-eared knave.

 Once more unto the pub dear friends!

Thankfully for the drunken peasants who packed theatres back in the day, Shakespeare always threw in a lecherous, sex-obsessed medieval scoundrel to break the monotony between main characters spouting romantic drivel. One favourite is the wasted Porter from Macbeth, who highlights the problems combining booze with sex: “it makes him, and it mars him; it sets him on, and it takes him off; it persuades him, and disheartens him; makes him stand to, and not stand to” Remember, until you see Shakespeare performed on a stage, you often miss the funny bits. You get it? Bits?

At the end of the day we are stuck with Shakespeare. The guy was just too good. What grammar Fascists and upstart correctionists like your Author need to understand, is that Shakespeare was free and loose with the English language. He showed that words can be made up, pulled apart and put back together to suit your purpose. Therefore, let this be a vow not to be such an autocrat when it comes to budging on which words are correct and which ones are uncorrect.

Shakespeare’s countless, multitudinous and generous contributions to English have not dwindled under exposure. He accommodated the obscene, the majestic, the pious and the suspicious – let his amazement not be misplaced and let his monumental legacy be not gloomy and lonely, but frugal with radiance.

* Despite the fact that the first complete English dictionary wasn't available until Samuel Johnson had nothing better to do in 1755.