Dernham Wellington came Down Under in the summer of 199-, looking for a true Australian.   Like most Americans at that time, his appetite for the land down-under had been whetted when Paul Hogan had appeared on American television in the 1980s, advertising Australian beer and telling Americans he would throw another shrimp on the barbie to make ‘youse Yanks’ feel at home.

In those dark days before Hoges’ first appearance, Dernham hadn’t even been quite sure where Australia was; let alone what life was like Down Under.   Now after honing up on all the Australiana he could get his hands on, he not only knew where the country was, he even knew that no one in Australia would ever eat shrimps.   Down Under they eat prawns, or at the very least yabbies.

He supposed Paul Hogan had been living in America for so long by that time, that Hoges had simply forgotten what life was like in Australia.   Dernham, on the other hand, had no desire to be some kind of cheap, knockdown copy of an ocker, but rather wanted to discover the essence of true Australia.

Which is why he had spent part of his life-savings on airfares for a month-long vacation to the Land Down Under.

Dernham’s first look at Australia had been Melbourne Airport, out in the boondocks of Tullamarine.   Looking around the starred-and-striped T-shirts and reams of cameras worn throughout the terminal, Dernham had known there were no Aussies here, so he had headed straight for the airways bus.

It seemed to take hours for the bus to transport them from Tullamarine to the heart of Melbourne.   Dernham had to catch a tram down St. Kilda Road to his hotel, but first he stopped in front of Melbourne’s famous Flinders Street Station with its redbrick facade of arches, cornices and cupolas, covering a large arcade outside the station, from where a strange voice emanated.

Dernham listened to the voice from across the street for a moment, before going across to investigate.   He located a grey-haired old man selling newspapers inside the arcade, calling out at the top of his voice, “Errol Dunn taped hairy newts!   Errol Dunn taped hairy newts!”

Dernham listened to the strange sounding syllables for a few moments, trying to decide whether the paper seller was a Vietnamese boat person, a refuge from Siberia, or perhaps an immigrant from Tibet, or even Swaziland.   But wherever he came from originally, it was obvious that the old man spoke not a word of English, so could not possibly help Dernham in his quest.