CRIKEY, THEY'RE LOSING THEIR STRINE

Sydney, Sept 15 NZPA - Crikey! Aren't they little beauties?

Crocodile Hunter Steve Irwin may have sucked the kumara, but he has left behind plenty of arguments about the impression he gave the rest of the world about Australia.

Many latte sophisticates in Sydney and Melbourne winced at him carrying on like a galah with crocodiles and snakes, concerned at the image foreigners might be given of their country.

England-based academic Germaine Greer had her well publicised ill-timed attack and it's clear others were uncomfortable with the way the khaki-clad Irwin not only used animals in his television shows but also the manner in which expressed himself.

Most Australians don't say "crikey" these days and as columnist Peter Ruehl pointed out in the Australian Financial Review, most Aussie guys would be more comfortable with good bottle of red (and a cleansing ale) "than they would playing tag with a crocodile or feeling up a python".

An Australian-based American, Ruehl enjoyed Irwin, calling him "the real deal", but said his biggest gripe was that he managed to perpetuate the idea of Australia being a Crocodile Dundee theme park, "despite the fact that if the country gets any more urbanised, we're going to start regarding goldfish as wild animals.

"When I tell most of my friends back home that most of the cab drivers here know more about economics than the Federal Reserve board (and won't hesitate to tell you about it), they act surprised because they think our kids ride kangaroos to school.

"Irwin contributed to this, and played to it. But he should be excused because he was a showman, and one of the best."

Before Irwin's death, author Phillip Adams mourned the loss of many of what Irwin would have called little beauties, Australian slang terms.

"Marvellously descriptive terms such as dill and drongo have been displaced by the trans-Pacific dickhead," rued Adams in his column in The Weekend Australian.

Some years ago Adams called for a campaign to save Australian slang from extinction and he's having another go.

"The idea was that each of us would adopt a favourite and forgotten colloquial expression and promise to use it at least once a day. You might choose drongo and apply it to a politician."

Australia seems to have a far greater slang lexicon than New Zealand, though they struggle with chilly bins, are disinclined to rattle their dags and don't think the All Blacks are hunky dory.

Adams drooled over the Australian gems beginning with the letter D, just as a random example. As well as drongo and dill, there are dinki-di, dinkum, dole, dukes, daisy-cutter (that's a low foot pass in Aussie Rules), daks, decko (have a look), darl, dazzler, dead loss, dead spit (denoting a strong resemblance), dero (alcoholic tramp), dibs (pertaining to marbles), digger, ding (a minor car accident) and a few others that might offend the slang-sensitive.

"In a world where we all speak American television, or SMS shorthand, or computer jargon, we're losing or have lost a vast and vulgar vocabulary," wrote Adams.

"Our verbal biodiversity is being replaced by the mealy-mouthed and mass-marketed. How long is it since you heard someone describe a face as a moosh? Or legs as Ginger Meggs? Or mammaries as norks? Or an arm as a Warwick Farm? Or an ear as a Germaine Greer or simply a lug? Teeth used to be chompers or clackers. Heads were beans, conks or noggins. Fingers? Onkaparingas. A nose? A Lionel Rose or a schnoz."

Adams thinks Strine is okay and wants to hear more of Emma Chissit (how much is it?), myxo, placky (plastic), mushie, rollies, rellos, dry as a pommy's towel or me stomach thinks me throat's cut.

"We're losing Australia day by day, word by word. (As evidence, spell-check went bonkers with this column.) Don't give up without a fight. Tell'em to go to billy-o," ended Adams.

Funny thing, how Greer popped up in Adams' slang list. Ruehl noted her contribution to the Irwin debate.

"Good ol' Germaine Greer (talk about something you wouldn't want to prod with a stick if she came at you with its mouth open). Ilsa, She-Wolf of the Rainforest, waits until Irwin is dead before she lets the world know what she thinks of him and what a swell, back-to-nature chick she's always been."

And another funny thing. My news editor is known as Norks, but I'd be disinclined to call him a big tit. Hoo-roo.