It's Sunday arvo and you have a few mates around to sink a few tinnies, spin a few yarns and chuck a few snags on the barbie. For American readers, that roughly translates to " It's Sunday afternoon and you have some friends at your home to enjoy some adult beverages, discuss topics on a varying range of subjects and barbeque a selection of meat based products.
Local vernacular aside, the Sunday arvo barbie is an Aussie tradition where the kids run rampant in the backyard and a good time is had by all. If your mate is flash, he might have an outdoor TV so that you can watch the replay of a footie match and the menfolk can hurl abuse at the players with such phrases as " you bloody wanker! Pull your finger out! " or " Off side! Mate that was offside.. what's the ref thinking? Bloody poofter! " or words to that effect.
I have been thinking a lot these days on how important these incredible get togethers are in our society. Two centuries ago, it was the congregation of friends and family at the local church Sixty years ago, it was a sing song around the piano followed by a cup of tea and a lamington. For the silent majority of people, we still enjoy the companionship of a social gathering albeit in a less formal atmosphere. As long as you choose your guest list wisely, the tradition can endure but, mark my words, you need a sturdy border fence to keep the woke wankers out.
If you slip up and let just one social justice warrior through, the entire festive occasion will be doomed to failure.
So I propose we create vaccines for wokeness and issue non woke passports so that the only way you can attend a backyard barbie is if you provide proof of your immunity to wokeness and a passport to prove that you were never woke in the first place, or if previously infected, you have been treated and are now safe to mingle once more.
Tell tale sign of infection. Kyle should never be invited to a BBQ.
The problem is that if just one of these sick mongrels get past border patrol the entire group will start displaying early symptoms of exposure.
The first sign of exposure to a potentially dangerous infected person is that they will arrive with a nutribullet, some kale and a bag of carrots with which to make a nutritious and foul tasting concoction to drink while they lecture the rest of the group about the evils of alcohol and how, since giving up and working out, they have never felt better in all their lives. Their small talk is limited to climate change, misogyny and how Trump is bad. Abortion is a women's choice and Greta Thunberg has led the way in showing the world the way to a better more progressive future, even though we'll be dead in 10 years anyway.
Which always makes me wonder why they gave up booze, stopped eating junk food and laughing if we are all doomed to die ... doesn't seem much point to me but then, I still have a few functioning brain cells. The clincher will come when they pull out a plate of plant based burgers and start talking about the farting cows and greedy farmers who exploit and murder animals for profit. Funny how they don't show the same concern for unborn human lives that are exploited and murdered for profit. But maybe that's just me.
The next stage in the exposure is a universal descent of impending doom gloom and depression. Even the children will be less lively and will start whinging and moaning and all adults will start feeling a deep sense of despair.
By now, the football on the tele will be turned off and people will be scurrying to gather their plates, eskies and whinging kids, make their excuses and get a fast stage out of dodge.
Out of the 20 odd people in attendance, it took only one infected woker to spread the virus of misery
In order to preserve our society, I wholeheartedly support border closures around every backyard in the country, preferably guarded by a vigilant Jack Russell and a sign declaring that " This property is a Woke Free Zone. " 
Set up a border checkpoint to sight all current vaccination cards, passports and have a receptacle handy for the disposal of all masks found being smuggled in through the perimeter.
If anyone is found with a nutribullet, a bag of carrots or a Tupperware container full of kale, refuse entry and notify the Neighbourhood Watch.
It is that serious.
After all, as we keep being told, we are all in this together and together, we can beat the bastards. After all, if it is good enough for them, it is good enough for us.
My name is Shaydee Lane and I approve of this message.
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