Whingeing Poms Head for Australia

I don’t have the exact stats., but many thousands of British people every year, mainly families, are being invited to go and live in Australia to fill that country’s need for skilled workers.

Australia has had a “he loves me, he loves me not” affair with Brits for many years. The “Mother Country” residents were allowed to come and go as they wished up to 1984, when a jingoistic ‘Ocker, PM Geoff Whitlam cried “There‘s too many of these bloody drongos!” and Poms (Brits, Limeys, whatever), had to go through the same immigration channels as all lesser mortals,

But recently Australia has had a severe shortage of workers in the health field, as well as construction and other blue-collar skills.

You’d think beleaguered Brits would jump at the chance to escape Britain wouldn’t you? But, no. I have been watching programs daily on BBC TV as couples and their kids are shepherded out to various Australian population centers and introduced to the country while their future possibilities are explored.

No wonder Aussies call us “Whingeing (whining) Pommies!”

The refrain seems to be more or less the same from all the prospective immigrants:

“Oh, we had no idea it was going to be sooo expensive here”

“This house is no bigger than ours is in Workington”

“This isn’t the dream we had; what’s the point in coming if you can’t live the dream?”

Cameras turn to crying relatives in England. “Oh, I can’t bear to be sooo far away from mum-dad-gran, the family goldfish”

Didn’t they consider any of this before jumping on the plane??

If I was the Aussie immigration department, I would ban all complaining and comparing after a small period and tell these namby-pamby idiots to sit or get off the pot!

Why do they need to get a house immediately anyway? People in Britain are obsessed with owning. More sensible to rent a place for 6 months until you get to know the country and where you want to live.

But, no. Mrs. Brit must have her 3 bedrooms and luxury kitchen. “Oooo, look, Herbert, it’s got a pool!”

Yes, you didn’t have one of those in Leeds. Would have been no good anyway, the ‘Elf “n” Safety nannies wouldn’t have let the kids swim in it.

Camera cuts to Brits semi in Glasgow. It’s snowing. The garden is about 6 feet by 12; identical dwellings stretch for a mile each side.

Two real estate salesmen are inspecting the property for its sale value.

“I’d say around 90,000 pounds for a quick sale,” one says. The other agrees but adds another 5,000.”

Camera cuts to Brits in Brisbane sitting on palm=fringed balcony in bikinis sipping a Fosters in full sunshine.

“No way,” says the stout mum. Buzz-cut agrees, saying, “I wouldn’t take a penny under 125,000!”

No one interjects to say, but you only paid 12,000 when you bought the place!

I feel like screaming at them. “TRY IT OUT, YOU CAN ALWAYS SELL UP AND COME BACK TO BLOODY BLIGHTY!”

There is no sense of the gamble; the pioneer spirit in modern Brits. They have been coddled in some respects from the cradle into young middle age. In PC Britain there’s no risks: if you loose your rotten little job, the government takes over and pays your basics. If the kids get a sniffle, down to the clinic - it’s free. Up to a couple of years ago, you could buy your house with nothing down and a 30-year mortgage…you had to buy, because their was practically NO rental market and their still isn’t: US readers will have trouble understanding this with their local papers full of ads for flats and houses to rent.

The British have been brain-washed into thinking they are poor white trash if they don’t get on the property ladder and keep moving up. Well, THAT’S dead now, too.

Australia waits; arms held out. A practically empty country with a bright future. Britain slumps, about to loose it’s prized credit rating; unemployment rising; surrounded by a mainly sick Europe.

You emigrants. GRAB THE CHANCE WITH BOTH HANDS The way Europe is going, Oz will have to put a fence around the place soon to keep people out like the States is doing.

Australia is bloody marvelous. Forget the effing property ladder. Live in a big tent!! Enjoy the sun, sea, wide open spaces and the comradeship of a people just waiting to prove you’re not just another whingeing Pom, but are trying to be a ridgie-didge, fair-dinkum Aussie.

I went there in 1965 after thinking about it for a few hours. I stayed 8 years and went back for another 5. I would never have left but for discovering the USA and a Mexican wife.

But I tell you now, at 72, dreaming the dreams of those in their dotage.

I SHOULD HAVE NEVER LEFT AUSTRALIA! And especially not have washed up in Britain.

(“But we wuz dreaming of a palace costing 100 pounds!” they whinge). Bloody useless Poms!