Fake tits, big lips, blonde hair and they don’t care, skin shown everywhere! We are coming to live from the Gold Coast. Home of the cashed up, smashed up bogan, the worst sports teams in every code, some of the best beaches in the land and Australia’s home to theme parks. A Mind of Its Own sent a couple of our own reporters into the heart land of the surf coast to get the low down on the land and why it’s so popular with schoolies, New Zealanders and Holden V8 drivers.
Like an insurance company investigator we blended in as well as neck brace being put on in a Centrelink car park. Decked out in boardshorts, a singlet and a pair of thongs, the footwear for all you New Zealanders who fled your own country to come and live across the ditch not the underwear. First thing we noticed was that when you are a pasty white guy who doesn’t spend a lot of time in the gym… you should cover up on the beaches of the Gold Coast. Even the kids were tanned to a nice shade of brown. If i was ever to work for the cancer council the gold coast would be a great place to show kids what happens when you don’t slip, slop, slap.
Brown skin covered the beaches as the UV factor pushed into the red. Banana Boat executives were no doubt sitting in their expensive penthouse apartments looking down at the beaches watching all those dollar signs lather up before tanning away to a crisp. Occasionally you see other whities who need a seriously good dose of vitamin D and to lay off the $5 spirits booze at their backpacker hostel. Yes we made the assumption they were backpackers might of had something to do with their inability to walk straight and take their eyes off the topless airbags trying to rid themselves of last weekend’s tanlines.
As we watched people of all walks of life we began to notice several recurring themes popping up over all over the place. Firstly we noticed more billboards for plastic surgeons than we’ve ever seen in any city in Australia. The odd thing was we didn’t see any women doctors adorning these billboards. Now we are sure they are out there but it is a little creepy that all the plastic surgeons on the Gold Coast seem to be men and the number one surgery is breast augmentation… Not that the clubs are complaining as they pay gorgeous enhanced women to stand outside an lure young men into their venues.
The next thing we noticed was the amount of sheep. Sorry sheep shaggers, they are everywhere. It’s almost as though they look at a map of Australia and go what’s the closest flight for us. Awww true bro it is Gold Coast, they have good beaches hey and lots of women who love tribal tattoos hey bro. Choice hey bro. Nothing against our neighbours from across the pitch just stop claiming you invented everything and moving here. What’s wrong with NZ? It looks great if you are a hobbit loving, sheep shagging, rugby loving, jandal wearing, fash and chaps eating, chilling bin filling clown.
So Kiwis and plastic surgeons aside the next thing that struck us was the amount of hotted up cars being driven around. We tailed a couple at a safe distance expecting to see a well suited Roger Moore type of character to exit the vehicles only to be disappointed by blokes stepping out of them wearing board shorts or tradie yellow. Enter the cashed up bogans. We took along our ‘terp’ or interpreter for those not down with the slang in order to understand a conversation with one of these Ferrari driving tradesmen. We were keen to understand exactly what it was they did for a living that allowed them to drive such a fine machine while having a mullet or rats trail.
As far as conversations goes even our terp couldn’t get past the first couple of sentences of our new mates high pitched slow drawl. We quickly gave up on that idea and decided to watch our new tradie friend buy a six pack of rum crack one before jumping back into his expensive ride and speed off down the street. It wasn’t long before we sat there conducting a high school type math experiment and were counting cars. From our observations and findings it was clear that Holden was winning the car of choice for Gold Coast residents. We aren’t talking your average Commodore we are talking your top of the line V8 SS Commodore.
With it’s meter maids, yearly invasion of school kids making terrible decisions and constant flow of holiday makers hitting it’s golden sands it wasn’t long before the casinos and nightclubs found a place on the surf coast. Formally jupiters now crown and redeveloped it’s a monsterous place of sin that welcomes you and your money only to leave you feeling used and abused as you leave it’s doors 5 minutes later scratching your head wondering what in the hell had happened to all your hard earned cash.
From the bright lights of Surfers Paradise we make our way out to towards the gold coast hinterland? Looking around our rented Holden SS Commodore the faces said it all… The hinterland? Well we were in Helensvale and hanging out the front of Movie World all our favorite DC characters and Looney toons wait for us to enter and get that photo that adornes every family photo album who have visited Australia’s theme parks. You ride a few rides praying that Batman leaves you alone before heading to Dream World where your praying takes on a completely different approach approach. Every god that or higher power suddenly becomes your best mate as you pray the rides don’t break down and kill you.
With most of the themes parks done we look at Top Golf and wonder why they continue to tease us by not opening the doors and allowing us to smash balls at targets. With Wet n Wild and SeaWorld left to explore we decided if we were going to see large mammals in the water we’d head to SeaWorld. Upon entering we cringed at the aquatic beasts in captivity although we thought we might drop Socks off for some training seeing they can get all types of aquatic life to learn tricks they might be able to teach him to gather lunch once in awhile at the office.
Looking for some solace we took to the water only to discover that Maroubra isn’t the only place where the locals think they own the beach and the water. Not wanting to get our heads punched in by several blokes who look like the kids from Hanson and should be singing Mmmbop and not threatening to beat the living shit out of you. So like the latest kookslam video we crashed our way onto shores of Burleigh in a explosion of sand and surf. Greater by a lovely gent in bright red budgie smugglers making sure we were ok. Like a wounded dog we limped back to the car with our tail between our legs
To recap we’ve seen way too much plastic surgery, way too many Kiwis, bogans with nice cars and too much cash, meter maids, schoolies who should never again be allowed out of their own state. Surfers who should be singing pop songs instead of popping skulls and old ducks and dudes who looked more like crocodile skinned handbags. They say first impressions last well lucky enough we’ve spent a lot of time around the GC otherwise we’d have run for the hills and never looked back.
So for all those looking at the GC and thinking it would be a great place to live… Ah maybe just spend a week there and head to some of its less affluent suburbs before deciding to settle down by the beach. You need to be a lover of the Kiwi, a fan of silicone, a ford or holden fan and friends with Mick Fanning if you want to surf Snapper on a weekday. So not at all a bad place if you are laid back, chilled and like the beach and want to support two shit football teams.
For another week that’s A Mind of Its Own! We hope you’ve enjoyed our review of the Gold Coast. If you live there it’s all in jest, if you want to visit please do. After the disaster that was the Commonwealth Games they could do with the commerce.
A Mind of its Own... 
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