BULLGOOSE: The coining of Wouldn’t be dead for quids

So, it’s about 40,000 years ago.

This Australian bloke and his extended family are sitting around a campfire in stuffed contentment after porking out on a tasty baked kangaroo.

He surveys the sleepy kids and the snoozing old folks then looks up into the overwhelming clarity of the stars, burps, sighs and declares, “Ah, you wouldn’t be dead for quids!”

There’s a pre-clock interval of silence before his cousin asks, “What?”

“Eh?”

“What did you say just then?”

“Erm, I said, You wouldn’t be dead for quids.”

“How come?”

“Well, look at us. Family, good friends, good tucker, healthy hunter-gatherer (with a touch of land management) lifestyle, and this beautiful night sky. What’s not to like?”

“Yeah, but the dead part?”

“When you’re dead you miss out on all this cool stuff, see?”

“That’s a bit obvious, isn’t it?”

“I thought it was, like, ironic. I mean nobody wants to be dead, so it’s not like they’re really going to choose between having all this and being extinct.”

“So why did you say that?”

“That’s just the way it is with irony, man.”

“OK, but what’s a quids?”

“Plural, dude. One quid, several quids.”

“You’re making this up.”

“This is true. I made up quids.”

“So, what does it mean?”

“Well, a quid is something of great value.”

“Such as?”

“An obsidian knife that never goes blunt and was given to you by your grandfather. A primo didge with a tone so deep that it rattles your teeth and scares the bejesus out of the young fellas.”

“OK, yeah, primo didge equals quids. I’m with you now.”

“Well OK.”

(More un-clocked silence and subdued belching)

“Wouldn’t be dead for a primo didge

“Wouldn’t be dead for a primo didge

“Mmm

“Wouldn’t be dead for a primo didge

“Wouldn’t be dead for a primo didge

“Have mercy!

“Woo!”

(Woman’s voice) “What’s that song you’re singin’ there?”

“Just something I made up. You like it?”

“It’s OK. Not like the classic beats, but it’s got something.”

The Originator arcs up.

“No, you didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?”

“You didn’t make it up. I made it up.”

“You did not.”

“I did too. Wouldn’t be dead for quids. I just explained it to you.”

“Your thing wasn’t a song.”

“You ripped off my concept. That’s cultural appropriation right there!”

“No, that’s Post Modernism. You lost control of the meaning the moment those words left your lips. Anyway, I left out quids. What a stupid concept!”

“I don’t like you any more.”

“Ha ha. Winners are grinners.”

 “Winners are grinners? Really? What a banal and pathetic truism! Winners are grinners. Pfft! It means absolutely nothing besides the bleeding obvious.”

“Why you…!!!”

(Scuffle)

(Woman’s voice) “Hey, knock it off, you two. You’ll wake the kids.”

A lesson to us all.

Bullgoose

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