In recent years, Reality TV has taken over the airways as broadcasters have sought to make programs with unpaid members of “the public” rather than the previously extravagant practice of employing professionals to make professional productions. One characteristic of these programs is that they are designed to inspire you to do something better. To change the way your house looks, to change the way your body looks or in extreme cases to change the country you live in. They play on the insecurities of modern life, where materialism has led us to believe that everyone else is living a better life and that we live in a crap house in a crap country and are unfit and unable to play the piano into the bargain.
One of the most popular such shows in the UK is “Get a New Life” where the British Government financed BBC, sets out to convince people that Britain is a dive and that you would be a mug not to emigrate. Australia is a favorite destination for this show, perhaps because the British still think they own the place. The format is repetitive; overworked English couple with young kids, seeking a sun and sand lifestyle and the opportunity to cash in the equity on their over-priced London home. The program generally takes them to the Gold Coast or the English colony in Western Australia known as Perth. The closing credits will feature jaunty music on a didgeridoo while the happy family strolls down a beach into an Australian sunset.
The odd thing is that in this closing shot, you will never see the family waving their arms in front of their faces like every other beach walker in Australia does. Because in TV land, there are no flies! Those of us who have come to Australia know that reality is different. That one thing at least will not be as advertised on the “Come to Australia” seduction videos. Once the temperature goes above 16c, the flies will emerge to partake in their daily battle with humanity. It’s not as though we Europeans haven’t seen flies before, we’re just used to the more passive variety. Australian flies have a mission to get into your mouth, nostrils, ear cavity, eyes, or any other slightly liquid cavity you choose to expose. And they attack in groups, so that when you are dealing with one that has burrowed his way under your eye-lid and is merrily dancing a foxtrot on your retina, his friend will be busy depositing his fly pooh on your tongue.
A stroll down the beach on a warm day will provide the spectacle of thousands of tourists engaging in a semaphore type dance as they wave their hands manically before their contorted faces. The locals on the other hand, are much more serene to this annual insect invasion. They have long since learned that resistance in futile and that arm waving only creates sweat, which is the elixir of life to the ravenous flies. As a result, the locals tend to look like wilder beast at an African wadi with an army of flies resting contentedly and unmolested on their heads while they plan their next attack on the sweating and naïve foreigners.
One wonders why the flies here are more aggressive than elsewhere. Perhaps they are as affected by the drought as everyone else and their search for moisture on the bodies of humans is just the last throws of desperation. Or maybe Australian flies are just like Australian people, inquisitive, hungry for liquid refreshment and reluctant to stand on ceremony in their quest for personal satisfaction.
There are the occasional positives from this insect epidemic. Australians are naturally competitive and have developed the game of “Fly Tennis” to obtain some measure of enjoyment from this nuisance. The normal court of play is the opposing seats on trams and trains. The server waits for a fly to enter the arena and with as much extravagance as the packed commuter carriage will allow, he will wave his hand vigorously in a forward motion. This will cause the startled fly to turn their attention to the passenger sitting opposite. With perfect timing they will swat the fly as he arrives on their side of the court causing it to hurtle back in the direction of the server. Rallies will last until one or other passenger disembarks, which can often be 20 minutes after the game began. Players are expected to glare at each other furiously in the somewhat quaint belief that the fly belongs to one or other of them and they have no right to try and pass it on to somebody else.
The other pleasure to be taken from flies on public transport is to watch the defensive actions of passengers, who are already multi-tasking, when it comes to insect repelling. Take for example those clever souls who can talk on a mobile phone while reading the celebrity gossip in the free newspapers littered across trains. When a fly appears, the natural reaction is to wave the newspaper (to the great annoyance of the people sitting either side) or if space is tight to use their head as some sort of battering ram against the buzzing nuisance. There are few things funnier at 8am than watching a sharp suited businesswoman talking rapidly into a mobile phone while reading MX and trying to head butt a fly.
One day perhaps it will all become too much and ABC will commission a program encouraging people to emigrate to Britain. There won’t be lingering shots of families strolling down an English beach but at least you’ll be safe in the knowledge that the cold will have dealt with the flies in a way that a million flaying Australian arms never could.
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