Australians are good at it you see, world champions no less, in the game played almost exclusively by female PE teachers; therefore it commands plenty of exposure and the public duly goes ga-ga for it.

All the more strange then that, in a week or two it will be Anzac Day and the entire nation will commemorate The Battle of Gallipoli, a campaign in which the allied forces were well and truly gubbed, with the Australian Corp in particular suffering nearly 30,000 casualties, an astonishing 65% of the total fighting force.

Leaving aside the dubious musical qualities of Lionel for a moment, I'd like to paraphrase the lyric: "I don't know much, but I know what gets right up my schneb. And that's all I need to know."

Take the Bauchle of Bathgate herself, wee Susan Boyle.  Yes, that’s right, take her away, as far as possible from me.  I know she has her fans and is worth 12 million quid or thereabouts, but that doesn't alter the fact that, as far as I'm concerned, Susan is pure mince.

Despite some impressive musical credentials, Colin isn't exactly a household name, though you'll know his best known song, the seminal Australian worldwide smash, Down Under, which he recorded with his 1980s band Men at Work.

And guess what?  Despite living in Australia since the late 1960s, Colin is one of us, hailing originally from the seaside paradise of Saltcoats, which must have really spoiled him for the beaches of Oz, where the sand is yellow and the sea turquoise, rather than the other way round.

Despite everything, the Brits were still ultimately in charge in Oz; the official head of state was the British monarch and her representative, the governor-general, reserved the power to sack the elected Government if he felt like it, which actually happened in the 1970s.

The 1999 referendum would give Aussies the chance to bin this (some said) anachronistic and politically illogical situation and I for one was sure Republicanism would be given the go-ahead.  Well, it was a no-brainer, wasn't it?

Sunbathing?  Forget it, the concept doesn't exist in the Alice and in fact, even in less steamy parts of Australia, it's called sunbaking and is generally only practised by crazed chihuahuas and people of an English persuasion.  Balmy it wasn't.

Firstly, as you stumble around, trying to find your bearings, it's only a matter of time before you're accosted by a shabby, shifty looking individual who'll ask whether you're interested in a) drugs, b) his sister, c) a guided tour of the old town or d) all of the above.

Meanwhile, on some pedestrian precinct or market square nearby, you'll hear the familiar sounds of a Peruvian pan pipe ensemble playing a seemingly endless version of El Condo Paso.