The questions below about Australia are from potential visitors. They were posted on an Australian Tourism Website and the answers are the actual responses by the website officials, who obviously have a sense of humor.
Q: Does it ever get windy in Australia? I have never seen it rain on TV, how do the plants grow? (UK)
A: We import all plants fully grown and then just sit around watching them die.
Q: Will I be able to see kangaroos in the street? (USA)
A: Depends on how much you’ve been drinking.
Q: I want to walk from Perth to Sydney– can I follow the railroad tracks? (Sweden)
A: Sure, it’s only three thousand miles–take lots of water.
Q: Is it safe to run around in the buses in Australia? (Sweden)
A: So, it’s true what they say about Swedes…
Q: Are there any ATMs (cash machines) in Australia? Can you send me a list of them in Brisbane, Caims, Townsville and Hervey Bay? (UK)
A: What did your last slave die of?
Q: Can you give me some information about hippo racing in Australia? (USA)
A: A-fri-ca is the big triangle shaped continent south of Europe. Aus-tra-lia is that big island in the middle of the Pacific which does not–Oh forget it. Sure, the hippo racing is every Tuesday night in Kings Cross. Come naked.
Q: Which direction is North in Australia? (USA)
A: Face south and then turn 180 degrees. Contact us when you get here and we’ll send the rest of the directions.
Q: Can I bring cutlery into Australia? (UK)
A: Why? Just use your fingers like we do.
Q: Can you send me the Vienna Boy’s Choir schedule?(USA)
A: Aus-tri-a is that quaint little country bordering Ger-man-y, which is….. Oh forget it. Sure, the Vienna Boys Choir plays every Tuesday night in Kings Cross, straight after the hippo races. Come naked.
Q: Can I wear high heels in Australia? (UK)
A: You are a British politician, right?
Q: Are there supermarkets in Sydney and is milk available all year round? (Germany)
A: No, we are a peaceful civilization of vegan hunter/gatherers. Milk is illegal.
Q: Please send a list of all doctors in Australia who can dispense rattlesnake serum. (USA)
A: Rattlesnakes live in A-meri-ca which is where YOU come from. All Australian snakes are perfectly harmless, can be safely handled and make good pets.
[FYI, something like nine of the world’s eleven most venomous varieties of snakes are in Australia…]
Q: I have a question about a famous animal in Australia, but I forget its name. It’s a kind of bear and lives in trees (USA)
A: It’s called a Drop Bear. They are so called because they drop out of Gum trees and eat the brains of anyone walking underneath them. You can scare them off by spraying yourself with human urine before you go out walking.
Q: Do you have perfume in Australia? (France)
A: No. WE don’t stink.
Q: I have developed a new product that is a fountain of youth. Can you tell me where I can sell it in Australia? (USA)
A: Anywhere significant numbers of Americans gather.
Q: Can you tell me the regions in Tasmania where the female populations is smaller than the male population (Italy)
A: Yes, gay nightclubs
Q: Do you celebrate Christmas in Australia? (France)
A: Only at Christmas.
Q: I was in Australia in 1969 on R&R, and I want to contact the girl I dated while I was staying in Kings Cross.. Can you help? (USA)
A: Yes, and you will still have to pay her by the hour.
Q: Will I be able to speak English most places I go? (USA)
A: Yes, but you’ll have to learn it first.
Here’s number 2…..
Subject: Pilots Gripe Sheet
After every flight, pilots fill out a form called a gripe sheet, which conveys to the mechanics problems encountered with the aircraft during the flight that need repair or correction. The mechanics read and correct the problem, and then respond in writing on the lower half of the form what remedial action was taken, and the pilot reviews the gripe sheets before the next flight. Never let it be said that ground crews and engineers lack a sense of humour. Here are some actual logged maintenance complaints and problems as submitted by Qantas
pilots and the solution recorded by maintenance engineers.
(P = The problem logged by the pilot.)
(S = The solution and action taken by the engineers.)
P: Left inside main tire almost needs replacement.
S: Almost replaced left inside main tire
P: Test flight OK, except auto-land very rough.
S: Auto-land not installed on this aircraft.
P: Something loose in cockpit.
S: Something tightened in cockpit.
P: Dead bugs on windshield.
S: Live bugs on back-order.
P: Autopilot in altitude-hold mode produces a 200 feet per minute descent.
S: Cannot reproduce problem on ground.
P: Evidence of leak on right main landing gear.
S: Evidence removed.
P: DME volume unbelievably loud.
S: DME volume set to more believable level.
P: Friction locks cause throttle levers to stick.
S: That’s what they’re there for.
P: IFF inoperative.
S: IFF always inoperative in OFF mode.
P: Suspected crack in windshield.
S: Suspect you’re right.
P: Number 3 engine missing.
S: Engine found on right wing after brief search.
P: Aircraft handles funny.
S: Aircraft warned to straighten up, fly right, and be serious.
P: Target radar hums.
S: Reprogrammed target radar with lyrics.
P: Mouse in cockpit.
S: Cat installed.
P: Noise coming from under instrument panel. Sounds like a midget
pounding on something with a hammer.
S: Took hammer away from midget.
And on last one from the USA. I get motion sick really easy, so, this man not only got my laughs, but my sympathy as well! I already knew that about bananas! lol Enjoy! Steph
Subject: Ride in a Jet
Below is an article written by Rick Reilly for Sports Illustrated. He
details his experiences when given the opportunity to fly in a F-14
Tomcat …. very amusing.
Now this message for America’s most famous athletes:
Someday you may be invited to fly in the back-seat of one of your
country’s most powerful fighter jets. Many of you already have
*********John Elway, John Stockton, Tiger Woods to name a few.
If you get this opportunity, let me urge you, with the greatest sincerity
….. Move to Guam. Change your name. Fake your own death.
Whatever you do, do not go. I know.
The U.S. Navy invited me to try it. I was thrilled. I was pumped. I was
I should’ve known when they told me my pilot would be Chip (Biff) King
of Fighter Squadron 213 at Naval Air Station Oceana in Virginia Beach.
Whatever you’re thinking a Top Gun named Chip (Biff) King looks like,
He’s about six-foot, tan, ice-blue eyes, wavy surfer hair,
The kind of man who wrestles dyspeptic alligators in his leisure time. If
you see this man,
run the other way… fast.
Biff King was born to fly.
His father, Jack King, was for years the voice of NASA missions.
("T-minus 15 seconds and counting…." Remember?) Chip would charge
kids a quarter each to hear his dad count down for them. Jack would wake
up from naps surrounded by nine-year-olds waiting for him to say, "We
have a liftoff."
Biff was to fly me in an F-14D Tomcat, a ridiculously powerful $60
million weapon with as much thrust as weight. I was worried about getting
airsick, so the night before the flight I asked Biff if there was
something I should eat the next morning.
"Bananas," he said.
"For the potassium?" ! I asked.
"No," Biff said, "because they taste about the same coming up as they do
The next morning, out on the tarmac, I had on my flight suit with my
name sewn over the left breast. (No call sign-like Crash or Sticky or
Leadfoot but, still, very cool.) I carried my helmet
in the crook of my arm, as Biff had instructed.
A fighter pilot named Psycho gave me a safety briefing and then fastened
me into my ejection seat, which, when employed, would "egress" me out of
the plane at such a velocity that I would be immediately knocked
Just as I was thinking about aborting the flight, the canopy closed over
me, and Biff gave the ground crew a thumbs-up.
In minutes we were firing nose up at 600 mph. We leveled out and then
canopy-rolled over another F-14.
Those 20 minutes were the rush of my life. Unfortunately, the ride
It was like being on the roller coaster at Six Flags Over Hell. Only
without rails. We did barrel rolls, sap rolls, loops, yanks and banks.
We dived, rose and dived again, sometimes with a vertical velocity of
10,000 feet per minute.
We chased another F-14, and it chased us. We broke the speed of sound.
Sea was sky and sky was sea. Flying at 200 feet we did 90-degree turns at
550 mph, creating a G force of 6.5, which is to say I felt as if 6.5
times my body weight was smashing against me.
And I egressed the bananas. I egressed the pizza from the night before.
And the lunch before that. I egressed a box of Milk Duds from the sixth
I made Linda Blair look polite. Because of the G’s, I was egressing stuff
that did not even want to be egressed.
I went through not one airsick bag, but two.
Biff said I passed out. Twice. I was coated in sweat. At one point, as
we were coming in upside down in a banked curve on a mock bombing target
and the G’s were flattening me like a tortilla and I was in and out of
consciousness, I realized I was the first person in history to throw
I used to know cool. Cool was Elway throwing a touchdown pass, or Norman
making a five-iron bite. But now I really know cool. Cool is guys like
Biff, men with cast-iron stomachs and Freon nerves.
I wouldn’t go up there again for Derek Jeter’s black book, but I’m glad
Biff does every day, and for less money per year than a rookie reliever
makes in a home stand.
A week later, when the spins finally stopped, Biff called. He said he and
the fighters had the perfect call sign for me. Said he’d send it on a
patch for my flight suit.
What is it? I asked.