By Danny Katz
Warning: this column contains Australia Day spoilers, so if you want your Australia Day completely spoiled, read on …
Next Thursday morning, people across the country will leap out of bed and yell "HAPPY AUSTRALIA DAY!" to their loved ones or their housemates or a one-night stand who did not leave immediately after the loving was done and now it's just awkward because the sex wasn't that good.
People across the country will still try to make the most of the day because that's what Australians do, they are not public-holiday-quitters.
And one of those people will say back "Happy day"? I don't think so. It's actually a day of mourning for Indigenous Australians, and also for all excluded minorities, and let's not forget the poor lambs who get slaughtered because of highly-effective meat-eating TV campaigns. Not such a happy day for them, is it?"
And people across the country will shuffle back to bed and lie there, pondering whether there's a more inclusive way to celebrate this nation, and also how they're going to get rid of that one-night stand. Can you call someone else an Uber? How does that work?
But plenty of people across the country will still try to make the most of the day because that's what Australians do, they are not public-holiday-quitters. So they will head off for a morning swim at one of Australia's glorious beaches and waterways – but when they get there, they won't be able to go in the water because of marine stingers, box jellyfish, great white sharks, freshwater crocs, saltwater crocs, and everywhere, else, faecal pollution.
They can't even sunbake because several popular brands of sunscreen have mysteriously stopped working. So they will stand there for a while, until the hot sand starts to cleave a flap of skin from their foot-soles, then they will skip-hop away in traditional Aussie fashion, going hot hot ow hot hot …
But many people across the country will not be discouraged, they will persevere with their plans. They will go to a mate's Australia Day barbie where they will eat slaughtered lamb and semi-thawed party pies and some kind of inedible salad-crime made with figs, bacon bits, and bizarre purple lettuce that tastes like malaria tablets.
They may also stand around a barbecue and take part in a scholarly discussion about Australian national identity, with one guy claiming you should always prick the sausages with a fork and everyone else saying it lets all the juices out. This fascinating debate will go on and on for ages, until the fork-guy pricks all the sausages anyway, the fork 'n' prick.
Some people across the country will be left to carry on, march on, plod on like a doomed Burke and Wills, all the way into town to watch the Australia Day fireworks. A spectacular spherical firework will go off in the sky and they will think, "Whooo, it feels like I'm travelling forward through 3D space! This is amazing! Whoooo!" Then another one will go off a few seconds later and they will think, "Hmmm, bet those biggies cost a lot, bet it's like thousands!" Then another one will go off a few seconds later and they will think, "You know, maybe if I leave now I'll beat the crowds."
The last few people across the country will get home, flop on the couch, and think, "It's been a long, strange day and I'm riddled with conflicting emotions. Maybe I'll just watch a bit of the Australian Open before bed to lift my spirits." They will turn on the telly. No Australians will be playing. It will be a disappointing way to finish things up.