The great Brisbane Matriarchs

Behind every great Brisso there is a truly great Brisbane matriarch (BM).

The BM is the most socially connected person in the world. She is the reason why Brissos on average have only 1.5 degrees of separation from the rest of the world 1 (i.e. the world that matters to the Brisso – affluent white, English-speaking, Christian, family oriented people).

She will know all the true Brisso families, and will have an astonishingly vast number of friends in her inner circle, and countless acquaintances. Through these people she is connected powerfully if indirectly to most significant families in Australia, which incidentally happen to be in Brisbane or Toowoomba.

The Brisbane Matriarch will have not only several children of her own, but also an impressive number of grandchildren. She often manages the family wealth (the Brisso’s inheritance) and the investment properties. But this is an easy task compared with the burden of social communication – the many phone calls, letters, cards and invitations that must be attended to. She writes formal notes and letters daily, often using deckle edge cards or paper. She always has letters to get in the post by 4 or 6 pm.

deckle edge cards and paper

If a BM has had an operation and cannot get to the letter box, her children will be assigned this daily duty. A general anaesthetic is the only thing that stops the Matriarch from writing cards and thank you notes. Many BMs have been known to ask for a pen and notepaper as soon as they come around after an operation.

The Brisbane matriarchs meet monthly for luncheons. It is the female Brisso’s duty to host elaborate luncheons for their Brisbane Matriarch mothers. This is a kind of Open Day for the BMs, an occasion to see how their friends’ children live, and thus gain some comparative insight into how their own offspring are getting on.

The BM’s friends have remarkable names, which appear to be finely nuanced variations of each other. For example there will be a Marge, Marg, Margi, Maggie, Margaret, and a Peg, Mary M, Mary T, Mary Mac, Marie (Maaah-ry) and Marie (Mar-eeee), a Marcy, a Marcia and a Mercia. The J names can be just as confusing, with Jan D, Jan T, Joan M, Joan Mac, June O, June B, Jean D, Jean S, Jeannie, Joy, Joyce, Joce. There is always more than one Rita.

The BMs’ adult children will have a completely different set of names, but names which will also be versions of each other: Jen, Jens, Jenny, Jane B, Jane Mac, Jane G, Janet, Jeanette, Janine, Janice, Julie, Jules, Julanne, Julianne. The third generation continue the tradition with a different name pool – eg Arna, Anna, Annalisa, Annika – which the BMs find absolutely confusing.

The Brisbane Matriarchs play bridge and golf. They continue these activities even when their minds and bodies are no longer capable, and this provides them with humorous material for talk, about themselves and each other. Most BMs stop playing tennis somewhere in their 60s because of knee trouble.

They are active members of select women’s clubs and meet weekly with their professional groups and/or charity organizations. After these social events, they relate to their own children detailed stories about incredibly successful women of Brisbane and their successful children.

Reading obits is a long but satisfying morning ritual for the Brisbane matriarch, one that prompts discussion (if she has company) about the deceased’s medical history and past family tragedies, and news about their offspring. Sometimes a cooperative spouse, a Brisbane Patriarch, will share the enormous load of trawling the obits each day, and the couple will work as a team, with the patriarch reading out names “Moreton, G. M” and the matriarch processing the information “That’d be Geoffrey, no hang on, I’m sure he died a couple of years ago…G. G….Gill Moreton? is it southside? ….”

Then there is the matter of organizing her own children to attend the funeral with her. Getting as many children as possible to accompany her to the funeral is imperative to the Brisbane Matriarch (there is intense if unspoken competition between the BMs in this particular form of attendance with family) and she has been known to resort to trickery to achieve this end. (A Brisso may sacrifice a half-day at work, thinking he/she is the only one who can take Mum to the funeral, and will find all the other siblings have been similarly motivated to attend).

In the past, Sunday church attendance was the occasion for parading  the extended family. Sadly, few Brissos these days attend Church with their parents each Sunday, even if they still live in the same suburb/parish (which is surprisingly common). This leaves funerals as the ideal special occasion for this important symbolic ritual. Funerals require formal dress, and sober manner, both of which are important for the BM as she shows off her children. Most importantly funerals  tend not to be invitation only.

Weddings are, and while Brissos do have to invite all their parents’ friends to their weddings, they rarely invite the second generation (except those who attended school with them).

The Brisbane matriarch is in touch with most of her daughters on a daily basis, and with most sons on a weekly basis. Some sons are special and are in contact with her more regularly. These special sons do not live in Brisbane: they are driven by guilt to contact Mum more regularly than their brothers. They have a lot to atone for (having left Brisbane) but the Matriarch will praise this son to her other children, and commend his outstanding levels of care via the phone.

These children find it incredible that this praise for the absent one continues no matter how much time they spend helping her with various errands, outings and in the hosting of luncheons. They understand that the praise for the absent one is a form of goading to promote dedication and duty among the remaining children, yet this knowledge does little to release them.

1. There is a Brisbane joke that goes like this: This guy at a party in Brisbane said to another guy “You know how there are six degrees of separation for most people in the world, well for Brissos there are only two degrees of separation”. The other guy says to him “You mean there are some people you don’t know?”

Brissos, abbreviated names and courtship.

The mandatory Brisbane casualness (see Brissos and compulsory casualness), is most evident in speech, where Brissos will integrate slang, swearing and nicknames, both affectionate and derogatory, into every possible form of address. This will be noticed in a wide spectrum of interactions, from a surprise encounter in a café (‘G’day arsehole’), to a wedding speech, boardroom address, and most especially in parliamentary discussion.

Formal speech is for English tossers. An outsider may not realise that Brissos know how to speak grammatically and with correct pronunciation. They have been taught formal speech and social codes by the great Brisbane matriarchs, but they use this style of communication sparingly and make some effort to sound nasal and ignorant.

Brissos automatically shorten the names of things and people, adding a ‘y’ or ‘ie’ wherever possible. Do not be taken aback if your name is thus shortened: for example if Amanda is immediately shortened to Mandy, Edward to Eddy, Sheenagh to Sheensie. This is a sign of affection; you are accepted as part of the Brisso tribe. Along with brekkie, footy, the telly, a tinnie and a ‘quickie’ (not necessarily in that order).

The suffixes ‘ie’ or ‘ey’ are not the only adaptation. ‘O’ or ‘A’ or ‘Za’ at the end of a name are also acceptable. Warren becomes Wazza, Gary becomes Gazza, David becomes Davo. The great expression ‘Maccas’, which is heard all around Australia but nowhere else in the world (despite MacDonald’s global presence) was coined by Brissos.

If a name cannot be easily shorted, it will be lengthened instead. Thus Anna becomes Go Anna, or Anna Bananna, and a John becomes Johnno.

If you are called Brian your name will remain Brian: this is a general rule and does not reflect on you and the Brissos’ level of acceptance.

Brissos have been known to abbreviate and downsize rather complex social interactions: for example, social introductions are likely to go like this: Duffy, Bazza, Bazza, Duffy. And then the host moves onto a more practical topic….”What are you drinking”?

This perfunctory style is most remarkable with social processes and interactions that are highly elaborate in other cultures; eg. courtship and love. For Italians this may involve the writing of poetry and getting to know the family of the beloved. In parts of India, astrologists are called for to investigate compatibility. American courtship is likely to proceed through a series of dates, in which the devoted male will spend money on the female, take her out to theatre or restaurants, and the female must consult at length with her female friends, analysing various aspects of their date’s suitability or otherwise (a la Sex in the City). Brissos, wherever possible, forego such elaborate social processes, and get straight to the business of coupling.

Male Brissos who have travelled are aware of the time and effort devoted to such enterprises elsewhere in the world, and can thus appreciate how lucky they are to have been born in Brisbane, and that they have easy access to low maintenance women. Some of these cynically call the whole business, McSnatch.

Brissos – on schools and old school ties

Let’s get this out of the way. What school you went to is the most important thing for Brissos.

Brissos will always ask what school you went to in the first meeting.

To the uninitiated, the question might seem to have little relevance to the conversation.

“We’re thinking of having our next holiday in South Africa – the exchange rate at the moment is incredible”.

Ah yes, Brownie took his family there last Christmas. They loved it, can’t wait to go back..…. What school did you go to?

A Brisso will know that this question has relevance to everything. It explains everything about the person, their character, opinions, preferences.

On hearing the answer the Brisso thinks: “Ah just as I thought, a Sydney person”….

or “ahh yes… a BBC boy”.

In which case they’ll respond “Oh so you’d know James Anderson-Marshall? And start a whole conversation about mutual acquaintances and friends.

What school you went to matters. Unless of course you’re from somewhere else. In which case Brissos couldn’t care less, as it means nothing. Do not tell stories about the school you went to in Geelong, Canberra, Shepparton or Ipswich, particularly if it was a Catholic school with nuns/brothers. Brissos will be as bored and irritated as if you were telling them about your travels overseas or the dream you had last night. (See Brissos and “Overseas“; and Brissos and Therapy).

The school you went to in Brisbane is what matters. It is a shorthand code for what kind of person you are. Like star signs. It makes things easy for everyone. It helps identify what you stand for and where you might fit in the lives of other Brissos. Whether you are likely to be fun, interesting, dull, superficial, successful, well connected or not. Whether you are good as a contact, an acquaintance, a potential spouse, a hit man, a cycling buddy, coffee pal, invited into the fold of the book club, or welcome for lunch/dinner at home with family.

It’s not that you will be excluded from being an acceptable Brisso, solely on the basis of the school you went to. There are many acceptable schools (although there is only one true school) and there are many Brissos with histories of Catholic or State Schooling – nevertheless, accepted as ‘one of us’. . (see Brissos and Freaks – “One of us”). Note that those people have usually been discrete and have not gone into any detail about their school histories, except to mention Prime Ministers and other famous people who were at that school.

Those same Brissos, when in the company of their alma mater, will talk of nothing but their school days, revisiting those crazy days at day/boarding school in meticulous detail: the terrible food, the sadist brothers/nuns. In this context they still call each other by their Grade 8 nicknames: Bomber and Muffy.

Brissos who went to Brisbane Grammar have a special category of their own – they are known here as hard core Brissos. They will not only ask you what school you went to at the first meeting, but they will find of way of mentioning their Grammar schooling. Not just at the first meeting, but at every meeting no matter how frequently you see them.

This phenomenon becomes particularly tedious and repetitive in Brisbane corporate functions and board rooms, because there will invariably be several Grammar old boys there, hamming it up. It becomes particularly poignant in the retirement home where the decrepit old boy finds his Grammar references fall on deaf ears.

This part is of course completely made up – what I’d like to think goes on with Grammar old boys. As I didn’t go to Grammar, I wouldn’t know what goes on in corporate functions or board rooms. And who am I kidding – Grammar old boys don’t end up in retirement homes.

On bogans and being the butt

On bogans and being the butt.

Brissos are tired of the condescending way people from Sydney and Melbourne scoff and generalise about Brisbane and assume Brissos are unsophisticated.

Brissos know that those parochial arrogant folk from Sydney don’t realise how much Brissie has changed in the last ten years. They don’t realise it has good coffee, farmers markets, and restaurants, real estate, and city parking as prohibitively expensive as Sydney. It also has the GOMA which has world class exhibitions like Andy Warhol and Picasso.

As if to prove their sophistication to southern snobs and to each other, Brissos never tire of scoffing and generalising about Ipswich and Logan, and other cities or locales Brisbane is forced to rub up against. Brissos use an ironic, sing song tone of voice for these place names and all they stand for:

“Ipp” ( voice rising) “switch” (down)

“Red…. Cliff”

“Low ….gan”

“Bri…bie”

as if mimicking the thick people that come from these parts. Brissos prefer not to go to the Ekka, Riverfire, or anything at Southbank (see ‘Brissos and still water’) because they have to share them with these people.

Brissos don’t know exactly where the limits of their sprawling city are but are pretty sure they would know if they’d gone beyond them because they’d see bogans there. In fact they used to travel regularly through these places en route to fashionable holiday locations such as Noosa and Byron Bay. Thankfully, improved roads and bypasses have meant Brissos rarely have to encounter bogans any more, unless of course they need to leave the motorway to visit Ikea or take their child to play GPS sport at an inconveniently located playing field.

Indeed on Brisbane’s fringe there is often a fine line between an acceptable location for a Brisso to live and an unacceptable bogan location. For example a house on acreage in Pullenvale is priced at well over a million dollars, advertised as “executive lifestyle… room for a pony”. The same house and land, five minutes up the road in Karana Downs, Karalee or Goodna is “bargain acreage with plenty of room for your sheds, the tinnie, the truck, the kids, the dogs, the lot”.

Sometimes Brissos will have to visit someone they know through work at their home in such a location. Someone who moved from overseas or interstate and as such failed to understand the social geography here. They may say to their hosts “It really is quite nice out here”, with genuine surprise.