Larry the Larrikin

This week I heard the story of a workplace where one of the members organised a private party on the weekend and invited some work mates. One of her colleagues, not invited, raised a formal complaint with her supervisor, that she was being excluded. The upshot was that the party organiser was ordered to issue an open invitation to all colleagues to attend the party. Two things amazed me: first that the supervisor took the matter seriously and  felt he/she had a right to respond to a private matter, but more, that the party giver, a good Aussie,  actually complied with the order. 

It’s been a week where the larrikin spirit has been in the spotlight.

When you check out the meaning of larrikin, the Oxford and Britannica dictionaries describe it as a rowdy,  badly behaved youth. 

The Britannica especially reveals it as a young hoodlum or hooligan in the impoverished subculture of urban Australia. The term was applied to the large numbers of sporadically employed teenagers and young adults who banded together in gangs, or “pushes,” glorified the outlaw bushrangers, engaged in gang fights with each other, assaulted citizens and generally defied and ridiculed the authorities.

While these may be historically correct definitions they somehow miss the mark. I prefer the description given in an ANU paper (http://andc.anu.edu.au/pubs/ozwords/June_98/5._larrikin.htm which says that :

The term larrikin came to be used affectionately of a person who did not always adhere strictly to polite social conventions; a bit of a stirrer. It was used in political contexts as well—used positively as a term almost of endearment. The negative meanings gradually died out completely in Australia, and the larrikin came to be seen as someone who defied social or political conventions in an interesting and often likeable way. 

One of the indicators of our larrikinism lies in our use of language. We call redheads Rangers or Blue; one armed friends Lefty or Bandit  We add ‘ie’ to common words like bickie, sickie,  reccie. I’ve lived in towns called Bello, Lizard, Canbubble…not dignified official names you will find on any local map, but well known to those in the locality.

I travel with people who have strange nicknames . By day they hold down responsible jobs, contribute productively to their communities, raise well adjusted families and go about their chores like the mild mannered Clark Kent. But look out when they let their hair down. Larry the Larrikin looms large.

This weekend I have seen a diligent health and safety officer scale a spiked fence, naked at 3am, in order to have a swim with three others all in the pink. The pool screamed keep out from the padlocked gate. It was an authority challenge, and a good thing we had passed the full moon, so to speak.

The following morning at breakfast, one of the night dippers, who has taken to writing messages on her arm to ensure that she stays on the straight and narrow (eg: Don’t take off your clothes. Don’t drink rum) was asked if she had any new messages for herself. She opened her palm to reveal in large capitals:

Stay away from these people. They get you in trouble.

My father always said: Show me your friends and I will show you who you are.

I think I have discovered I am a larrikin.

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This week's Art Work

Sea Spray

I am still  making  tea cosies - probably little larrikins themselves