Remember June and Steph, the ‘Bogan Besties’ of My Kitchen Rules?

They were functional bogans.  They showed that bogans were no longer just bong-toting types with a penchant tyre fires and Corrosion of Conformity.  The friends were acceptable, taxpaying, school-run bogans, who probably shopped at Caroline Eve.

I had bogan mates at school.  Maybe I was one too?

In ’87, Bogans liked to drink a lot, particularly during the day. I was always of the ilk that you should have the fortitude to wait until at least 2pm, because you could pretend that this was just afternoon drinks—going through to about half past four the next morning.

Bogan chicks wore black lace and white boots.  These boots were usually punched out, zippered and tasseled, and unlike popular thought, really didn’t go with anything, least of all a muslin-and-lace Stevie Nicks dress.

Bogan chicks were kind.  They always shared their Winfield Green fags with me, anyway.

Bogan dudes were harder to pigeonhole. They were highly opinionated and many of them incredibly conservative.


Misunderstood? He could have a vast Michael Nyman collection. You just never know

I remember one night getting into a lengthy conversation with some bogans about religions of the world, and their associated stereotypes.

Cringe from start to finish.

For a start, of all the things you could be rambling on about in a drinking establishment, wasted out of your mind on double Southern Comforts, why would you specifically be directing the conversation to religion?

Bogans are the centre of the bogan world, not some monotheistic deity. Do not shove a more powerful being into the world of the bogan, unless it holdeth a guitar.

We could have talked generally about any of the interesting world conflicts, and even done a quick analysis about which political flashpoint we felt was the most destructive all round:  the Cuban missile crisis?  The Irish troubles?  The metal/rap war of 1987?

Alas, that was not the conversation this pocket of bogans wanted to have.

One of the things that unifies bogans though, isn’t just lengthy religious discourse or anti-rap hate talk; it’s food.

June and Steph were real foodies.

If The Creator leveled the earth tomorrow, do you know who would survive?

Cockroaches. And Bogans.  They would make a barbecue out of the molten remains of their remastered Deep Purple CD collection and cook up the best feed, ever.

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