Right… Passport, Mate.

By Russell Crowe

Your Yank roots are showing, Mellie. Your little Malibu adventure was an insult to Australians everywhere. Jesus… where do I begin?

First off – why the fuck did you try to drive your own fucking car when you’re pissed to the tits? Christ, Gibson – any *right* Aussie bloke knows that’s the perfect set-up to get a winsome Sheila back to your mansion for a naughty! What doe-eyed Yank wanna-be actress would resist Mel Fucking Gibson saying “Oh, I hate to ask, Darling, but I’m so pissed that I shouldn’t drive. Would you please drive me back to my FUCKING MALIBU MANSION?” Blimey, mate – your game is slipping!

Second – even if you do drive WHY GO FUCKING 80 MPH? No proper Aussie is so out of drink-driving practice that he forgets to keep close to the speed limit so he don’t stand out like dog’s balls. That's begging to get nicked, bloke!

Third – you get nicked, and the best you can do is a few give them a gobful? A few curse words, some Jew-blaming, calling the policegirl “Sugartits” – the Yankness is into you deep, Mellie. Dinkum Aussie procedure when pissed and threatened: (1) Ask the whacker if he’s looking for a fight; (2) Repeat step one; (3) Repeat step two; (4) Whatever he says, punch him. Assaulting an officer at a roadside pull-off when full of piss is NOT a career-killer, (Hell, Down Under, the coppers are insulted if you *don’t* have a go) but anti-Semitic yabber is.

I’m pulling your Australian credentials, Mate. You have embarrassed The Lucky Land too greatly with this little caper to be considered one of us any longer. By order of the Australian Image Council, you are hereby and forth-fucking-with to be called Mel Gibson of Peekskill, New York, US-Bleedin’-A.