The hardest context of all to assume is ‘general background’, because it’s easy (or convenient) to believe that you & the audience have the same one. All of the little quirks that come together to give you your concepts for a shared life experience come to nought when you are faced with an ‘alien’ who speaks the same language as you, understands you perfectly, but has no idea what you’re talking about. You don’t discover this until you tell a particularly clever joke & it’s met by a room full of blank stares.
There are, of course, very different types of ‘alien’ in the room. There are the ones who work in a different field to you - which is why accountants just cannot talk to software developers. There are people from different countires who realise that the slightest hint of an accent will mean that the other person didn’t watch the same TV programs, do the same classes in high school, or even play the same sports. There are even demographic aliens, where lifelong near neighbours (or even family members) have nothing in common because of age, or choices in education, or personal tastes.
There is often no way to communicate directly with aliens. You have to find the common ground - a context so broad that it encompasses what you want to say & the backgrounds of the participants. You cannot be too clever, because clever things are almost always contextual - they won’t “get the joke”, or else it will take so long to explain that any vestige of humour will be lost after a few new concepts are explained.
Thus, finally, we come around to the title of this blog. Every Australian over the age of, say, thirty (at least), will know what this means. Some may even remember the origins of the saying (or have some vague notion). Here’s the explanation (& I’m not getting this from wiki, so excuse my memory).
Once upon a time in the great southern land, the imperial leader was a well-respected popularist by name of Robert James Lee Hawke - “Bob” to all of his mates (which was approximately the whole population). Although a tea-totaller, he understood celebration, & when his beloved team wrenched the Admiral’s Cup from the Zeppoes, he claimed that any boss who sacked a worker for not turning up was a bum. He was that sort of loud-mouth. Popular at the time was a Tshirt with a half-crazed Bob (looking appropriately somewhat like a galah) shouting “No wuckin’ furries”, which spoonerism managed to get it past censorship & what goes for common decency in this country. Five syllables being two long, this was shortened to “No wuckas” when it became a standard element of Strine within a very short while.
Just as an aside, the direct translation “No worries” still needs context. The alternative (more common across the Pacific) “No problem” has its own context within Australia - or relative to Strine, at least. I’ve heard that the tone used is the most important part of interpreting an Australian’s response, as well as the actual words used. Australians are much more likely to tell you what something isn’t, rather than what it is, so “no problem” - or “no probs”, “no wuckas”, etc, fit in; but sometimes they actually mean the opposite. It is now common practice for the phrase “not a problem” to actually mean that there is one, indicated by the amount of extra effort (more syllables) in giving such a response.
So, if you ask an Australian to do something for you, & his response ‘seems’ to indicate that they’d be happy to, just double check by counting the syllables. If they could have gotten away with answering in fewer syllables, then they’re probably not happy doing it. Strine is about contractions - giving the flies minimal opportunity to enter the mouth.
Let me give you a few examples to illustrate …
Example 1.
Me to friend: “Could you write a blog for me, on the importance of assumed context when communicating with your audience?”
Friend: “Not a problem.”
Example 2.
Me to friend: “Ya got time f’r a frostie?”
Friend: “No wuckas.”
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