Both Australia and I have come a long way since that encounter in 1991, though since it took place in Tully, Far North Queensland, that was probably always going to be the case for me - it's a long way from most places.
Back in those days, Paul Hogan was the undisputed international face of Australia, and my friend clearly fancied himself as having been cast from the same mould. When he wasn't punching out crocodiles and blowing the froth off cold ones as Crocodile Dundee, "Hoges" was hurling bucketloads of shrimp onto barbies and blowing the froth off cold ones in adverts for Australian tourism or Fosters lager. Generally he'd conclude with a laconic remark at the expense of some hapless foreigner, though fortunately his material tended to be of a higher standard than was available in Tully.
They say that advertising works best when it uses some sort of truth about the product. And whilst I wouldn't pretend that any of those images represented the whole story, at the time they still reflected a recognisable facet of mainstream Australia. You didn't really have to go looking for it in out of the way places. Bars in most parts of the country had examples of people hewn from the same slabs of Australian granite as "Hoges". Hard-working, hard-drinking, hard-bitten bastards who had a put-down for every occasion.
If you were English, it was an archetype you recognised all too well: this was the same stock as the Allan Borders and David Boons, who could thrash the Poms at cricket and be back at the bar before their beer had got warm.
Old stereotypes die hard. Many of the tourists and backpackers who arrive in Australia for the first time today probably still have expectations of a country bursting at the seams with Paul Hogan clones. Some may even be hoping for it. But beneath the kangaroo scrotum purses, stuffed cane toads and merchandise festooned with the logos of various beer companies, all of which can be found in any tourist shop, modern Australians hide a little secret.
Which is that a visitor is overwhelmingly likely to find that they're friendly, courteous and helpful, and laconically-delivered insults are in short supply. They drink less than they did as well, and in the cities lower-alcohol beers have become common, as has blokey one-upmanship involving hair-raisingly physical sporting activities. If you're looking for an experience out of an old lager advert you're increasingly going to have to get off the beaten track a bit.
I'm sure that my friend from the bar stool in Tully is still there, probably in both the literal and figurative senses. And Australia boasts plenty of places which are far remoter than that. Tough places breed tough people, who generally aren't too bothered about offending anyone.
But most Aussies don't live in tough places. Out of a population of about 22.7 million, around 14.3 million live in one of the state or territory capitals, and quite a lot of the others probably live in other urban centres. Australia's character is now substantially metropolitan, and it's in these areas that the Hogan archetype has declined.
Back in those days, Paul Hogan was the undisputed international face of Australia, and my friend clearly fancied himself as having been cast from the same mould. When he wasn't punching out crocodiles and blowing the froth off cold ones as Crocodile Dundee, "Hoges" was hurling bucketloads of shrimp onto barbies and blowing the froth off cold ones in adverts for Australian tourism or Fosters lager. Generally he'd conclude with a laconic remark at the expense of some hapless foreigner, though fortunately his material tended to be of a higher standard than was available in Tully.
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| The Glory Years |
They say that advertising works best when it uses some sort of truth about the product. And whilst I wouldn't pretend that any of those images represented the whole story, at the time they still reflected a recognisable facet of mainstream Australia. You didn't really have to go looking for it in out of the way places. Bars in most parts of the country had examples of people hewn from the same slabs of Australian granite as "Hoges". Hard-working, hard-drinking, hard-bitten bastards who had a put-down for every occasion.
If you were English, it was an archetype you recognised all too well: this was the same stock as the Allan Borders and David Boons, who could thrash the Poms at cricket and be back at the bar before their beer had got warm.
Old stereotypes die hard. Many of the tourists and backpackers who arrive in Australia for the first time today probably still have expectations of a country bursting at the seams with Paul Hogan clones. Some may even be hoping for it. But beneath the kangaroo scrotum purses, stuffed cane toads and merchandise festooned with the logos of various beer companies, all of which can be found in any tourist shop, modern Australians hide a little secret.
Which is that a visitor is overwhelmingly likely to find that they're friendly, courteous and helpful, and laconically-delivered insults are in short supply. They drink less than they did as well, and in the cities lower-alcohol beers have become common, as has blokey one-upmanship involving hair-raisingly physical sporting activities. If you're looking for an experience out of an old lager advert you're increasingly going to have to get off the beaten track a bit.
I'm sure that my friend from the bar stool in Tully is still there, probably in both the literal and figurative senses. And Australia boasts plenty of places which are far remoter than that. Tough places breed tough people, who generally aren't too bothered about offending anyone.
But most Aussies don't live in tough places. Out of a population of about 22.7 million, around 14.3 million live in one of the state or territory capitals, and quite a lot of the others probably live in other urban centres. Australia's character is now substantially metropolitan, and it's in these areas that the Hogan archetype has declined.
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| The sort of bloke who doesn't play cricket against England any more, thankfully |
For all the warm welcome you'll get in Australia these days, there are some downsides to it. The Australian cricket team's current travails have been partly blamed by some on the lack of precisely the sorts of hard-nosed characters they used to pick. And I suppose we should mourn the gradual passing of character traits that used to distinguish the country immediately from others, though fortunately for the tourists you can still find them further away from the more built up areas.
As for Paul Hogan, he has followed his own archetype and now lives largely in self-imposed exile in Los Angeles, having spent many years in battles with the Australian tax authorities concerning the proceeds of "Crocodile Dundee".
On a more personal level, the British now drink substantially more than the Australians, which means that at social occasions I am now often drunker and ruder than the locals. This is a cross that my wife bears with her usual stoicism.
On a more personal level, the British now drink substantially more than the Australians, which means that at social occasions I am now often drunker and ruder than the locals. This is a cross that my wife bears with her usual stoicism.
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