There’s nothing wrong with dating an Australian in London

Get past the accent and realise how fun they are


I have a friend who brought his new girlfriend to the pub before Christmas. They’d been ice skating at Somerset House, enjoyed a hot apple cider on the South Bank and turned up arm in arm.

Having never met Caitlin before, we all wanted to get to know her. Then she spoke. And almost the entire group lost interest and carried on talking about the festive schedule for the premier league and plans for New Year’s Eve. No one bothered to ask Caitlin who or how she was or what her plans were for bringing in 2016 – they didn’t want her there. She was an Aussie.

It's like your at uni again

It’s like your at uni again

We’re wired to hate them from birth. From the Rugby World Cup in 2003 and the Ashes in 2005, our hatred for Australians is ingrained. Another friend told me: “After the Ashes I grew up, and my friend was going out with one. Then I thought ‘how fucking backward and prejudiced I was – let me give them a fair hearing.’

“And then she spoke.”

But what is it about them we dislike so much? Is their painful half cockney twang that bad? Is it their supposed insistence on wearing flip flops (thongs) in any weather? Why are we so afraid to date them?

So they might live above the pub they work at in Putney. The perception is they go out a bit too much. The reality is we’re just a bit boring. Try going on a night out to The Slug in Fulham. Five minutes in the smoking area and you’ll realise spending time with Aussies isn’t as bad as you thought. They’re not all die hard fans of Neighbours and most of them hate Steve Irwin. The difference between us and them, they’re not trying to impress their parents with good corporate jobs.

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They might ask if you’ve been to Church, only for you to realise it has nothing to do with Christianity and it’s just a weird club night where they sell you four tinnies of Foster’s in a blue plastic bag. Besides, if they’re not the downing Jägerbombs type, they’re the ones making Old Street even more of a problem for gentrification protesters. Nose rings, huge beards and artisan coffee, they’ll spend their life in London interning for fashion brands or boutique ad companies or jobs where they don’t really do anything.

Our problem is we’re too alike. They’re as arrogant as we are and that grates on us. They’ll try to worm their way into your friendship group, start dating one of your mates and you will immediately hate them. For no damn reason. In reality, you just have to get past their slightly annoying upward infliction. You know the one at the end of every sentence? That makes it sound like it’s a question when it’s not?