I used to be so proud of Australia and Australian men. Australian men, whatever their faults, never used to be cowards. The world is full of both sexes but, somehow, it’s the men of a country that define its reputation and Australia was the home of the fair dinkum, true blue, dinky di, okker man. The work hard, play hard, drink hard, fight hard, no class, lots of faults Aussie male in all his uncivilised, thong (I think they call them flip-flops now) wearing glory.
The Australian man of bygone days was considered uncouth and uncivilised but he had something that seems to be fading from existence these days — courage and a sense of fair play.
Once upon a time a man was only a man if he fought his own battles. If a fight broke out a man’s mates had the job of standing by to ensure the other man’s mates didn’t hop in and make the odds unfair.
A fight was one man against one man and “may the best man win” was the attitude.
Not any more. Other cultures have brought their good and their bad into this country and now the Australian male has developed a fair few civilised habits but he has lost a lot in the process. The pack mentality has invaded and tainted us.
The other day at the local pub a man decided he wanted a fight so he mouthed off at the security guys and got on his mobile to call for back-up. Within a few minutes his mates had rocked up ready to fight HIS battle! The security guards called the police. Mr Big Mouth continued mouthing off but it was one of his dumber mates who went after one of the policemen with a knife!
In the old days Mr Big Mouth would not have had mates! He would have been seen as a cowardly trouble maker and a lousy friend. He would have been a different man altogether in those days because his mouth would have got him pulverised. Now it gets his knife-wielding idiot mate the hidings and he walks around all puffed up with his own power at being able to summon his troops any time he wants.
He thinks he’s big and tough. He’s so proud of himself because he can say what he likes and call equally stupid friends to put themselves at risk to back him up. When I looked at him all I could see was a massive yellow streak running down his back and the word “COWARD” in neon lights above his head. Any man who doesn’t fight his own battles is, by definition in my eyes, a coward.
I talked to one of the security guards after the incident. He said it’s common now for trouble makers to call for reinforcements. He said it’s common for trouble to run in packs. He said he was leaving a job late one night when a car almost ran him over and he yelled at the driver to be more careful. The driver stopped and demanded to know what he had said. He told him and the man accused him of wanting a fight. He looked at the driver and his beefy mate and tried to talk his way out of trouble but the man hit him, his mate jumped in and seven other men came running to help them.
The security guard said he had no option but to curl up into foetal position and wait for them to finish pounding him.
I was outraged. In my mind the security guard is more of a man than all nine of those pathetic, gutless, morons put together!
I don’t much care for pub environments. Alcohol brings out the worst in people. A peaceful scene can turn into a brawl in the blink of an eye and there is always, always, some gutless jerk nipping in to kick the man someone else knocks down.
My son has worked as a security guard but he never got into a fight. He was always able to talk his way out of it. Now THAT is a REAL man! Any man who can use his mouth to talk mindless morons out of a fight is ten times the man who lifts a fist first and thinks later or not at all.
I guess my definition of a real man is someone who uses the thing that makes a man different from a dog — his brain. Dogs start yapping and biting in the blink of an eye. Dogs let lust rule them. Dogs run in packs and fight in packs and act without thinking first. It is, however, the little, tiny, pansy, weak, dogs who nip in and bite the dog that is busy fending off the attack of another dog.
Men who run in packs are, as far as I can see, nothing but little, tiny, pansy, weak dogs who can’t fight their own battles! They are cowards. I’d rather have a beer-gutted, uncivilised, pauper who would never dream of hitting a man when he’s down than a coward in a Ferrari with a mansion and diamond mines!
The good news is there are still some Australian men I can be proud of. Not the four young men at the poker game the other night who heckled an old man because they knew nobody liked him. It was the other men who jumped in to stop the young men from beating up the old one when the old one took a swing at one of them. Those were the men I am proud of. One was Indian, one was Asian and two were white but all four were true blue, dinky di, Australian men — real men with a sense of fair play and the courage to stand up for it!
They have my respect and admiration. They and any like them. The fewer there are the more I respect and admire the ones that are left!