Australia, I love you, but I think it’s time you and Uncle Mike had a talk.
First of all, I’m concerned about your safety. Why are you operating vehicles with steering so unpredictable that you can only raise one finger to wave to a passing cyclist?
These cars may seem exciting now, but trust me, when you get to my age you’ll realize how dangerous they really are. I’ve seen too many good people lift their entire hand from the wheel – just for a second – only to have their vehicle spontaneously explode.
I can’t say I’m happy about your driving either.
Yesterday I found a stretch of your highway that wasn’t covered in burnt rubber. You know better than that. From now on, consider yourself Mad Max and your mum’s Camry the last of the V8 Interceptors. You need to buckle down and start spinning more donuts, otherwise nobody will know what a big dick you think you have.
That reminds me. Your teacher told me you flunked another car-horn test. How many times must we go over this? Beep-beep means “Look out! I’m going to run you over!” and beep-beep is how we say “G’day.” It isn’t complicated.
As long as we’re talking about roads, do you care to explain all the beer cans in your ditches? Hrm?
If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times: keep the empties in a bag by your feet and then return them for a 10-cent refund. That money could be your nest-egg. Tuck it away for a rainy day when you need more beer.
By the way, I don’t want you hanging out with Italy anymore. It lied when it told you mullets weren’t trendy. The next time you see that little bastard you tell it awesome never goes out of style.
I swear, sometimes I just don’t know where I went wrong with you.
You need to get your priorities straight, and that means pulling your weight around here. You can waste time with your silly climate-change movies after you finish closing your borders to fruit flies and brown people.
I’m not mad, just disappointed. But mark my words, mister, if your behavior doesn’t improve, you’re going to turn out just like your cousin America. It roams the streets at all hours, painting red lines wherever it goes. You’ve got too much potential to wind up like that.
Now let’s say no more about it.
Off to bed with you, and when you go, be sure to send your sister Canada in here. She and I need to have a little chat as well . . .