Gold Hoax

Dear Gold Coast,

Over the years, there has been an abundance of misnomers associated with you. Sunshine Coast, ‘party-central’, Surfers Paradise… The list, while not endless, is far too long for my liking, and more to the point, completely incorrect.

I will grant you that your particular geographical location does provide you slightly more sun and warmth than say, the Arctic, but you have nothing on the myriad of countries that flank the equator, most of which are archipelago nations who therefore deserve the name, ‘Sunshine Coast’ far more than you. And as for ‘party-central’ and Surfers Paradise, well, I submit both Amsterdam and Hawaii as refutations of these claims.

All of this just covers up your true nature though, doesn’t it Gold Coast? That you are a privatised breeding ground for the most base members of human society - reality television fodder. Right now, I imagine you are laughing at my dated and already forgotten claim, considering that Big Brother and it’s bastard child Australian Idol are both long dead, but, my dear Gold Coast, the scars they inflicted on my heart are still fresh.

Now, I don’t have the time or willpower to withstand an extended retrospective of the reality television phenomenon, so I will focus on Big Brother Australia, particularly one Katie Hastings. Katie is the embodiement of the Gold Coast, similar in fashion to the American president, Barack Obama, being the embodiement of hope. She has a small, pinched, possibly inbred face, hair that will likely fall out shortly from chemical abuse and a body that vaguely fits Barbie-esque stereotypes of attractiveness. Most importantly though, and coincidentally the thing she is most proud of, Katie Hastings is from the Gold Coast.

Upon leaving the house five years ago in 2006, Katie declared herself to be ‘so Australian’, a ‘party animal’ and someone who would not think twice before initiating domestic violence upon her partner. Sadly, this almost three dimensional profile of an Australian is still the norm today. This worries me, Gold Coast, and rightly so. You are perpetuating this commonality by continuing to provide a section of the Australian coast that teems with amusement parks, clubs and pubs easily infiltrated by underage patrons and an undeserving reputation as a place to have a ‘good time’.

You are none of these things. You are a death trap for intelligence, taste and decency, as well as happiness and any chance of a future the children who frequent you may once have had. You terrify me with your power and consistent reduction of class in the shred of Australian culture that is not already at your level. What will it take for you to relinquish your power? Must we sacrifice our first-born? Because frankly, if this will prevent another catastrophe like Katie Hastings, then I am all for it.

In light of this, I am splitting this gauntlet down the middle. Half of it I am using to cover Katie Hastings’ shame and the other half is for you to do what you wish with. But please heed my cries for change and consider my offer of the nation’s first-born, because the horror has to end.

Adrik