English is the official language of Australia, which is technically true and practically quite misleading. Visitors who arrive confidently on the strength of their existing English will find themselves nodding along to sentences they only partially understand, smiling at what they assume are jokes, and occasionally agreeing to things they would not have agreed to had they known what was being asked. This is not because Australians are deliberately obscure. It is because Australian English, over two-and-a-bit centuries of geographic isolation and cultural mixing, has developed into something that shares a grammar and an alphabet with the rest of the English-speaking world while doing more or less whatever it likes with the vocabulary.
The good news is that the underlying logic, once grasped, makes most of it guessable. The bad news is that there is quite a lot of it.
The single most useful thing to know about Australian slang is this: if a word seems longer than strictly necessary, Australians have almost certainly shortened it and added either “-ie” or “-o” to the end. Breakfast becomes brekkie. Barbecue becomes barbie. Afternoon becomes arvo. Service station becomes servo. Registration becomes rego. Bottle shop becomes bottle-o. Sunglasses become sunnies. Biscuits become biccies. Mosquitoes become mozzies. McDonald’s, impressively, becomes Maccas.
Linguists estimate Australian English has over 5,000 of these diminutive forms, more than any other variety of English on earth. The -o suffix has roots stretching back to 19th century street traders – milko (milkman), rabbito (rabbit seller) – while the -ie ending carries a warmth and informality that researchers suggest functions as social glue, a small linguistic signal that we are among friends and nobody is putting on airs. The word “selfie,” now used by the entire planet, originated in Australia in 2002 via exactly this mechanism. You’re welcome, world.
The Essential Vocabulary
Arvo – afternoon. As in “see you this arvo.” Non-negotiable.
Barbie – barbecue. The invitation to “throw a shrimp on the barbie” is something no Australian has ever actually said in earnest; it comes from a 1980s tourism campaign. Australians call them prawns. They are, however, extremely serious about the barbie itself.
Bogan – roughly equivalent to a British chav or an American redneck, though Australians use it with more affection than either of those comparisons suggests. A bogan is unsophisticated, unpretentious, probably wearing thongs (see below), and not especially bothered about your opinion. In certain contexts, being called a bogan is a compliment.
Bludger – someone who avoids work or effort. A “dole bludger” is someone perceived to be living on welfare without trying to find employment. To “bludge” something off someone is to cadge it. The word has a certain affectionate exasperation to it when applied to a friend.
Chook – chicken. Ubiquitous, endearing, and completely opaque to the uninitiated. A “chook raffle” is a lottery held at a pub where the prize is a chicken, which is as Australian as it sounds.
Crikey – an exclamation of surprise. Yes, Steve Irwin really did say it constantly. Yes, actual Australians still use it, though with varying degrees of irony.
Drongo – an idiot. Originally a racehorse in the 1920s that ran 37 races without winning any of them. The horse is gone but the word persists, which is its own kind of legacy.
Dunny – toilet. Originally an outdoor privy. Now used for any toilet, with a slight suggestion of rusticity. The “dunny budgie” is a blowfly, which tells you something about the historical conditions of the original dunnies.
Esky – a portable cooler/cool box. Technically a brand name, like Hoover or Biro, but now the universal term. Bringing an esky to any outdoor gathering is not optional.
Fair dinkum – genuine, true, the real thing. “Fair dinkum?” means “really?” or “are you serious?” The origins are debated, with theories ranging from the English Midlands dialect word “dinkum” (meaning a fair share of work) to various other sources nobody fully agrees on. Australian linguists have been arguing about it for decades.
Galah – a fool. Named after the pink and grey cockatoo, which is a handsome bird with a reputation for loud, mindless behaviour. Calling someone a galah is not a compliment, though it lacks real malice.
G’day – hello. Not “g’day mate” every single time, despite what television suggests. Just g’day. It is used constantly and sincerely and shows no signs of going anywhere.
Hard yakka – hard work. “Yakka” comes from “yaga,” a word from the Yagara language of the Brisbane region, meaning work. It is one of many Aboriginal language contributions to everyday Australian English.
Heaps – a lot, very much. “Heaps good,” “heaps of time,” “cheers heaps.” Deployed constantly and across contexts where other varieties of English would use “very,” “lots,” or “loads.”
Larrikin – a loveable rogue; someone who bends the rules with charm rather than malice. Australians regard the larrikin with considerable fondness as a national archetype. Politicians occasionally attempt to cultivate this image. It rarely works.
Mate – friend, but much more than that. Mate can be used to address a complete stranger, to soften a request, to add warmth to a compliment, or – with a particular shift in tone – to deliver a warning. It is the most versatile word in the Australian lexicon and the one most frequently misunderstood by visitors who take it at face value every time.
No worries – it’s fine, don’t mention it, that’s alright. The default response to any expression of thanks and a genuine window into the national character. Sometimes shortened to “no wuckas,” which is rhyming slang we won’t explain further here.
Reckon – think, believe, suppose. “I reckon it’ll rain.” “You reckon?” Used far more freely than its equivalents elsewhere and a reliable marker that you are talking to an Australian.
She’ll be right – it will be fine, everything will work out. A complete philosophy compressed into three words. Whether this represents admirable equanimity or reckless optimism is a matter of ongoing national debate.
Thongs – flip-flops. This causes significant and immediate confusion for Americans, who use the word differently. Australians find this hilarious every single time.
Yeah nah / Nah yeah – two phrases that operate in direct contradiction to their apparent meanings. “Yeah nah” means no. “Nah yeah” means yes. The “yeah” in each case is an acknowledgement that the question has been heard and considered; the second word is the actual answer. Once understood, these become genuinely useful. Before that, they are the source of considerable confusion.
A Note on Tone
Australian slang is inseparable from Australian social values: egalitarianism, informality, a deep suspicion of pretension, and the belief that taking yourself too seriously is a character flaw. The language reflects all of this. Titles are ignored, first names are used immediately, and the quickest way to earn goodwill is to not stand on ceremony. The person who insists on formality is the odd one out; the person who picks up the local vocabulary quickly and uses it without self-consciousness is, in the best possible sense, doing fine.
Use “mate” early. Accept that your sunglasses are now sunnies. Order a flat white. You’ll be right.
