Do Australians have the best possible version of English?

The Age

18-07-2025

Language students in Britain, it was reported this week, face a challenge because the word 'sorry' is used so often and means so many different things. Sometimes it is a genuine apology, sometimes it means the speaker is not sorry at all ('I'm sorry if you took it that way'), and sometimes it means you simply can't hear what's being said ('Sorry?') Fair enough. The word poses difficulties, both there and here. In this country, though, the complexities of 'sorry' are joined by other linguistic problems which must be overcome by the eager student. In fact, when compared with English English, ours is simply the more complex and nuanced language.
For a start, there are the many varieties of the word 'mate', ranging from the convivial to the downright threatening. There's the ALP 'mate', for example, which has several repeats of the letter 'a', as in 'maaaaaate'. It means you are about to lose preselection or be dumped from the Prime Ministership. There's the terse 'excuse me, mate' when someone's blocking the entrance to a building, and the sunny 'thanks, mate' when they finally make way. Meanwhile, 'mate', when used by a mechanic, means: 'I've judged that you are the sort of chap who knows nothing about motor vehicles and so have elected to charge you double.'
Sharon is Shaz. Darren is Daz. Aggression is agro. ACDC is Acca Dacca. Breakfast is brekky. Vegetarian is vego. Barbecue is barbie.
Could I use that meaning of 'mate' in a sentence? Certainly. Here's the mechanic: 'I've had to completely replace the manifold, the big end and all the grommet pins, so – mate, ah – it comes to $2,497. Let's call it $2,496 for prompt payment.' All he's actually done, you later learn, is polish the tyres. Of course, when used in a workplace or at a neighbourhood barbecue, 'mate' is much less hostile. Instead, it's Australian for 'I've forgotten your name, but I'm still willing to fetch you a drink. So, what will it be, um, mate?' The word 'bastard' is even more complex. As I've previously observed, Australia may be the only country in the world where Hitler is described as 'a bit of a bastard', while your best friend is 'a total bastard.' This is due to the Great Australian Linguistic Deflator (GALD) under the rules of which both praise and criticism must be muted to a stupendous degree (except we'd never use a word like 'stupendous').
Under the principles of GALD, the serial philanderer who abandoned his kids and stole all the wife's money, before running off to Canada with a trapeze artist from Cirque du Soleil, is 'a bit ordinary in the husband stakes'. Dame Joan Sutherland, by contrast, was 'not exactly a slouch when it came to belting out a tune'.
Then we come to names. In Britain, the longer your name, the better you are regarded. Call King Charles by his complete handle and you'll be there for some time. He's 'Most High, Most Mighty, Most Excellent Monarch, Our Sovereign Lord, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith, and Sovereign of the Most Noble Order of the Garter'. That's 28 words, and they're just getting limbered up. By contrast, in Australia, success is measured by the brevity of your title. A successful prime minister, such as Robert James Lee Hawke, is known as 'Hawkie', while an unsuccessful one, while an unsuccessful one, such as Scott John Morrison, is known as Scott John Morrison (he tried his best with 'Scomo' but it never took off).
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Likewise, the singers Barnsey and Farnsey. If only they were a little more successful, they might one day find themselves referred to as simply 'Ba' and 'Fa'. Keep going, lads, and perhaps your time will come. No one, it seems, wants to leave their mouth open for long. Not with this many flies. That's why everything, simply everything, should be shortened.