I don’t think we need Billy Field in a pair of Dustin Hoffman Tootsie glasses, tinkling the ivories of a Steinway, to let us know that we pack a serious punch when it comes to bad habits in this city. We shouldn’t be content to bask in the glory of the Opera House, the harbour and Stanmore train station while ignoring some of our less than illustrious tendencies. I believe here a few areas where we collectively let ourselves down.
Being a weather snob.
All we need is a whiff of the slightest shower and we batten down the hatches and refuse to attend anything other than the opening of the fridge.
Where else in the world can rain be an excuse for not going to a wedding?
Letting Bondi guys over 40 get away with being douches.
Whether it’s their testicles falling out of a pair of short shorts or it’s a ridiculous pair of oversized sunglasses clashing with their greying temples, we have shown these Peter Pan types far too much clemency. Real men start a family and let their appearance go.
Wearing pork pie hats to weddings.
Unless you’re playing saxophone in a ska band you have no excuse.
Failing to support local business.
Here’s an idea, let’s bemoan the lack of a decent bar or bistro in our neighbourhood, then when one opens why don’t we go twice in two years and then get upset when it closes? Brilliant.
Sending children off to kindy with rat tails.
At a western suburbs primary school earlier this year I spied no less that six kids with a hair cut more suited to kick boxing than reading about Meg and Mog.
I’m pretty certain the blueprint for the education revolution doesn’t involve a pair of clippers and a photo of a cage fighter.
Not supporting the arts unless it’s free.
Whack a free event anywhere in this city and people will turn up quicker than you can say hormone replacement therapy.
Cover charge? Is that the sound of tumbleweeds in the Domain?
Apparently if you wear leather and manufacture amphetamines some arguments can’t be settled by sending an angry email.
Using social media at dinner.
Is there anything better than one of Generation X’s finest having a whinge about young people filming concerts on their mobile phones, while they’re checking their twitter feed for mentions?
Refusing to cross bridges.
Our geographical ignorance rivals that of America when it comes to venturing out of our enclaves. Want to stump everyone in a trivia competition on the Northern Beaches? Ask them where Panania is.
Always moving on to the latest thing.
Hey! Where’s everyone gone?