Permit me, Quorans, to introduce an Antipodean personality into this thread of woe.
Permit me also to try and comprehend why we have this annoyance for no (or least no rational) reason.
I mean, if you’re not from Australia, this chap looks unexceptional, doesn’t he?
Raffishly unkempt, perhaps. Glasses; he could be studious! A computer in the background: might he be in IT? On a mobile phone: must be always on the go. Looks to be in his fifties: surely not an age bracket anyone can take offence to.
OK. Australians, don’t say anything. That’s my job, it’s my answer.
So. Let me pitch you a story.
A young carpenter by the name of S. Caminetti, travelling the country, from sheep station to dockland, settles down in his native Sydney, marries and establishes a successful building business. It is the Australian property boom, and business is good.
He is affable and charming, with all those virtues Australians appreciate in their tradespeople—those they call sparkies (electricians) and chippies (carpenters) and brickies (bricklayers) and dunny divers (plumbers). And somehow, ten years into his successful building business, he ends up doing building segments, during a lifestyle show on Australian TV.
He’s a hit. The public loves him. He gets a series of TV shows that rotate around building and renovations (now an Australian craze). He gets sponsorships from sundry building-related enterprises. He refuses to let his unlikely fame get to him: in fact, he famously makes a bottle opener out of his Logie Award (the Australian counterpart to the Emmy).
Why on earth, Nick Nicholas, you horrible heartless inner-city effete snob, would you despise such a man? Why would you put your hands over your ears and demand that S. Caminetti vacate your sight, whenever you flick past a show with his whimsical stylings?
Perhaps these images can begin to convey why:
Scott Fricking Cam. Take your blokey bloke hijinks, Scott Cam, and your shit-eating grin, and your bogan tradie antics, and your endless succession of Ocker reno reality shows that all look the same, and your one-man bolstering up of an entire TV network, and your smug condescension, and your banter with your irritating reno reality show contestants, and have I mentioned that god. damn. shit. eating. grin; and get out of my sight.
Fuck me. As if I didn’t have enough reasons to hate Sydney already.
EDIT: I realise, in the torrent of my rage, that I forgot to explain why we hate these people.
As you can see from the images: it’s the overexposure. And the bombardment of media telling you you must. love. this. person.
No, pilgrim. No I must not.