C'mon Aussie, c'mon!

It’s just not cricket.

The Bingle Bungle that is. During this fortnight’s disastrous turn of events between Clarkey and Lara I’m left flummoxed and left with no other choice but to blog my embarrassment on behalf of Bogan Babes everywhere. And I apologise in advance to my international readers for the terribly Aussie content of today’s blog post. I’m sure this scandal hasn’t made international headlines. Jeez, I hope not.

Drama, drama, drama. Let me fill you in, North Americans and Brits (and any Aussies living under a rock). Let’s use point form to recap.

1. Lara loves Michael. ‘He’ being the all important Michael Clarke, the vice-captain of the Aussie cricket team. ‘She’ being Lara Bingle, the chick in the ‘where the bloody hell are you?’ series of Tourism Australia ads and stupid blonde who (prior to Clarkey) slept with ‘Fev’ (Brendan Fevola, brainless Aussie Rules footy player with a smashed in nose), supposedly not realising that he was married. “Nooo!! He’s loike, MARRIED??? Who knew?? Oopsssie!!!” She and He (Clarkey, not Fev) appear together in several glossy mags, society pages Aussie-style (ie, The Sunday Telegraph newspaper) and promote Bonds undies and some sort of energy drink. They shack up together in a cushy pad in Bondi. Michael buys Lara expensive engagement rock. “ohhhhh NOICE!! I love you Clarkey!! Where the bloody hell’s my perfect man?? Roight here ay!!!”

2. Lara gets expensive Aston Martin car, aka a ‘wankmobile’. Australia disapproves. Someone flogs it from Bondi.

3. Disaster strikes. A photo of Lara taken in the shower on Fev’s phone (pre-Clarkey we gather) surfaces in the media. OMG!!

4. Australian women everywhere are SHOCKED that Bogan Babes are being  photographed without their permission on louses' mobile phones. “I just… loike… feel… loike… so vi-o-lay-ted….”

5. Lara sells story to women’s mag. Fev sells story to women’s mag. Lara’s dodgy agent offers two-year exclusive deal to any TV network who’d like Lara’s services, for one million dollars.

6. Clarkey, meanwhile, is off in New Zealand playing cricket upholding the pride of our nation (being.. well, a cricket player and all). She’s deemed a liability to Aussie cricket when Clarkey ‘rushes to be by her side’. He WHAT? Flew back during a one-day series to …. WHAT??? Support his woman? He bloody WHAT???

7. Shit hits the fan. Lara flips the bird to waiting media throng outside cushy Bondi pad. Clarkey misses one-day match in NZ.

8. Whole of Australia hates Lara.

9. Engagement called off. Headline announcing the split is screened as breaking news across bottom of TV screen Friday night. OMG!

10. Plumbers called in to search for expensive ring lost somewhere in pipes of cushy Bondi pad. Lara’s family offers to sell their story about ‘how Clarkey isn’t really that nice a guy either’ to a … shock, horror, women’s mag.

11. Somewhere Fev is having a quiet giggle to himself.

That pretty much gets you up to date.

So, you all are wondering, what does this say about our culture?

WHY is this story important to Blossy? I turn to the interactions that BtT and I have been sporadically having on this topic. Mainly during the evening news, where the latest in Lara-gate is spruiked (as a leading story at times... is there NOTHING else happening in the world?)

You see, in my opinion, Lara epitomises the rise and fall of a Bogan chick.

She really was just another model (albeit a pretty dumb one) in a bikini until she hooked up with the Aussie cricket vice-captain. Then she kind of went all flashy, ditching Target for Tsubi and Valley Girl for Gucci. WRONG! Once a Bogan, always a Bogan luv. There’ll be no dressin’ it up in friggin’ Chanel at the Allan Border medal night. YOU are a BO-GAN. However, all power to her that she snagged Michael Clarke. Kind of makes it possible for anyone to do it you know?

In BtT’s opinion, Lara is a rung lower than a Bogan (ie, a ‘scrag’), that never truly earned her place in the MCG Member’s Stand.

Hang on a tick. ‘Earned’?

BtT explained to me that all wives attached to the nation’s cricket team need to be just a little bit dull and non-controversial. They can, and should, be attractive, preferably blonde, possessing an athletic pre-disposition that results in breeding future generations of cricketers. Can’t waste a good gene pool. This is bloody well cricket. It's not a joke you know.

These are the rules, I am told. An Aussie cricket wife can, apparently, set up charities (aka Jane McGrath and whatsit Bevan’s missus) but not wear a see-through dress to an awards night (aka Nathan Bracken’s wife). Preferably they don’t even have names (aka Ricky Ponting’s wife… what IS her name?). They can suffer gracefully amongst their husband’s indiscretions (ie, Warney's wife) as long as they maintain their hair and nail regime. They CERTAINLY do not have dirty Louis Vuitton luggage like naked pictures and affairs with married men. THAT’s the kind of Bogan chick behaviour that is reserved for those associated with Rugby League and AFL. The kind of Bogan chicks that wear Bulldogs jerseys and have their own doof-doof Monaro. And really… to present closing evidence... did Don Bradman’s wife drive a V8?

Is it just me being judgemental, or has anyone else noticed that we don’t seem to have any gay cricketers? Or cricketers with immigrant last names? No, the new fast bowler’s name is not Georgio Wogolopolous. Yep, I reckon the Australian cricket team is more of a cult than Scientology is. Investigate THAT on Today Tonight! 

So, as my rant draws to a close, I reckon if we’ve learned anything useful this week, it’s that the tradition of cricket has been safely protected from a full-blown Bogan attack.

Ohhhh, and Clarkey’ll be back in New Zealand ready for the first test.

Phew!

Crisis averted.

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C'Mon, Aussie, C'mon - Aka The Australian Cricket Athem, Allen Morris, sometime in the late 1970's.