Roderick’s Reality Crisis

By Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble

Senior Correspondent
Dusty Gulch Gazette, Food Division

I had thought the matter settled.

Australia exists. Its Food exists. We Australians exist. 

Or at least that was my understanding until earlier this week....

The trouble started when an American reader took one look at a Chiko Roll in its own little branded bag and declared:
“Nobody would eat that. It’s clearly fictional.”

What he did not know is that Chiko Rolls are indeed very real. In fact, there is even a national song dedicated to them. 

 But what is a chiko roll I hear you cry. 

Dusty Gulch was so impressed with the song that it created its own version of the Chiko Roll, known as the Cheeko Roll. This was required in order to avoid copyright issues and low flying crows and Lord Squawk Squawk chanting about theft of intellectual property. Or Maurice EDuck banniong them for people or emus under 16. 

The CWA camp ovens have been turning out millions of them as a fund raiser for people requiring Titanium hip replacements, shin replacements and knee replacements.

The Crispy Fryer 3000 has been running 24/7 and Mrs McFookit reports that the power grid in Dusty Gulch remains stable. Trevor the Wallaby is considering a fundraiser to give Prentis Penjani a titanium brain since he lost his real one in a housing commission house decades ago while having a dream about a cruise where he had a job for 10 minutes and realised it was a short way to the top if you manipulate the polls. 

But that is another story. 

Another reader jumped in:
“Mate, if you think that’s fake, wait until you hear about the platypus.”

That should have ended it.

Instead the American replied,
“Nice try. You can’t fool me.”

And just like that, the whole country was suddenly on trial.

Because once you start listing the evidence, even I have to admit it begins to sound… assembled rather than discovered.

Imagine trying to explain that a real animal exists which is a furry mammal with a duck’s bill, webbed feet, venomous spurs, and lays eggs. It lives in rivers. It was not designed. It simply is. 

Most jurisdictions would ask for a second draft.

Then the list began.

We lost a war against our national bird (the Emu).
Every spring we are dive-bombed by kamikaze magpies with no formal declaration of hostilities.
We have invisible jellyfish that can kill you in minutes, known locally as Irukandji.
There are large furry bears that drop out of trees onto unsuspecting tourists with fangs like Dracula on steroids, known as drop bears.
And our national food staple is a black yeast paste that tastes like road tar and regret, which we spread on toast and call breakfast.

Oh .... and the word “mate” can mean friend, warning, insult, agreement, or threat, depending entirely on tone, timing, and eyebrow angle.

At that point the American simply wrote:
“If I’m expected to believe in the Chiko Roll, I have to question the drop bear, the platypus, and the very existence of Australia.”

The comments section lost the plot after that.

By evening, half the town was quietly reconsidering foundational assumptions.

Maybe Australia is an elaborate myth we all agree not to interrogate too closely.

Like Santa. Or the Tooth Fairy.

Or government forms that say “quick and easy”.

I put this troubling theory to Mavis from the CWA while she was buttering scones.

She looked at me over her glasses, took a long sip of tea, and said:

“Roderick, if Australia doesn’t exist… who the bloody hell is eating all these Chiko Rolls?”

Fair point.

This observation has been recorded and no further action is currently planned.

Official Position of the Dusty Gulch Gazette:

Australia exists.
The platypus exists.
Vegemite exists.
Chiko Rolls exist (in their own little bags, thank you very much).

And if our American friends remain unconvinced, they are welcome to visit and conduct field verification.

Just be advised:

• Magpies are in season in a few months
• Drop bears are active in shaded areas
• Redback spiders remain constant threats, even in city hotel bathrooms

Some mysteries are not solved.

They are simply lived with.

And it occurred to me that Australia is just one big mystery bag of crazy ingredients, dreamed up by God on his day off when he let the cats take over. Who else could make up a land that came out of a badly wired microwave oven? Reasonably well baked on the edges but fried and dry in the middle; animals made from all the spare parts after a hard week's work; birds that can defeat an army and a language that only locals can understand?  

No, this land we call Australia is in itself a place that defies logic, is seemingly impossible, yet to us? It is real. It is home and we wouldn't change one thing. In fact, the chiko roll is Australia in a custom built bag. Chockers with mysterious ingredients, fall of surprises and loaded with flavour. Hard as tacks on the outside. But once you bite in, you will never forget the taste.

This is Roderick ( Whiskers ) McNibble signing out. I believe that there is a monument in Central Australia that is really a giant stone age frozen Chiko Roll that Indigenous Australians have been worshipping for thousands of years. 

And next our American friends will tell me it isn't true... 

Australia shouldn't work.

It shouldn't exist.

It shouldn't make sense.

Therefore it must be Australia.

Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble
Senior Correspondent
Dusty Gulch Gazette