Mathew Mackie wants to sit down with Australia for a little chat about her current…preferences…because, well, all these other nations only ever want one thing…
Hey Australia. We need to talk.
I see you around and you say everything’s fine, and that you haven’t changed. But you have.
I hope you’re not dating this, Whats-his-name…America? Just to get back at your parents. I know nothing you ever did really was enough. I know they’re old fashioned. I know they wanted you to be just like Them.
Your new man scares me. Yeah, he can beat me and everyone else up, so what? I think he’s all wrong for you. He’s not as pretty as he used to be, he’s all testosterone, and growing desperate. I know his type. He’ll force you into doing things you don’t want to do.
But if you like him, that’s cool.
I’ve seen you at parties, trying to move forward, by going back. Showing us the older, straight-laced you. The one who likes talking of war and traditional values. That’s your parents talking. Are you trying to make us forget the “fun” you? The you that you’re ashamed of? The fun Australia, the life of the party, the one who made everyone laugh, the one who got everyone in the mood to be better? The gal who everyone secretly wanted to be…let’s get her out.
Now, I see you on his arm, echoing his suspicious glare towards China, who’s recently come out of his shell, got his shit together and is now getting all the attention. America flexes his waning muscles in the corner while you clap in support. Turning up late, Russia walks past, awkwardly double-taking toward you two, overcompensating his greeting to China and bombing into the pool. To make your beau feel better, you dismiss Russia with a flick of the wrist and quietly threaten violence.
Maybe you should be single for a while, you know? Go to whatever parties you want, and talk to whomever you like. Maybe you and China have stuff in common – you’re neighbours right?
Look, Australia, I’m sorry to bring this up, but you know how I feel about you. I don’t want you looking in the mirror one day and no longer recognising who’s looking back.