THERE was some sad news for Australia’s bigots this week with the one god they can all agree on, Jimmy Barnes, giving them a collective backhander by announcing he doesn’t want his songs played at their rallies.

Apparently Barnes’ iconic hit Khe Sanh has been adopted as a sort of pseudo-anthem by anti-Islamic group Reclaim Australia, which makes a lot of sense because what better way to represent Australian values than with a song about a disaffected war vet with post traumatic stress disorder and a meth addiction flying off on a sex tour of Hong Kong?

Still, Barnesy’s put his foot down, and when Barnesy says no you bloody well listen (mostly because he tends to scream everything, and it’s hard not to).

But never fear, moronic, misguided hordes! I’ve come up with a list of other fully sick Aussie hits you can use that won’t upset anyone, mainly because everyone already hates them all.

I’m an Individual - Jacko.

Yes, the title rather undermines the “single brain” group mentality of Reclaim Australia, but if it’s national pride you’re looking for you can’t get more Aussie than a head banger by an ex- footy player with a platinum buzz cut.

The lyric “I keep an open mind ‘cos I’m thinking all the time” might be problematic, given the group’s obvious tendency to do the opposite, and they might have to skip over the line “I make my own tomato juice, I drink it every day”, which heavily implies some sort of alliance with Italian immigrants. (Can’t be too careful.)

Perhaps Jacko’s follow up Me Brain Hurts — a paean to acquired head injuries — would be more appropriate.

Purple People Eater — Agro.

Only a couple of rungs down from Jack on the Aussieness scale is Agro, that puppet made out of a bathmat that used to yell at children on TV.

“Purple People Eater” from his 1990 cover album Agro and Friends (yes, really) would be a great choice for any anti-Islamist rallies, given that it’s a paranoid musical rant about a mythical monster that descends from the heavens to destroy humanity.

The fact that the people eater turns out to be rather nice, actually, not to mention a great saxophone player, might be lost on the bigots, but Agro’s tendency to always sound vaguely drunk will probably appeal to them.

Who farted? — The Vaughans

I can think of no better musical accompaniment to a bunch of stupid people spouting crap ideas than a song with a drum solo comprised entirely of flatulence sounds.

Hand in My Pocket — Rolf Harris.

Sadly Rolf’s cover of Alanis Morissette’s hit song has an entirely different vibe now, but hey — an anthem from one pariah to thousands of others.

Ooh Ah — Tamara Jaber

No reason for this one, other than watching a bunch of idiots with southern cross tatts marching through the nation’s streets to “ooh ah, I lost my bra, I left it in my boyfriend’s car” would be brilliant.

Strawberry Kisses — Nikki Webster.

You guys can have it. No one else likes it anyway.

Ironically, though, in the end I think the most apt song comes from an immigrant to Australia, the venerable Joe Dolce:

“What’s-a matter you?

Gotta no respect.

What-a you think you do?

Why you look-a so sad?

It’s-a not so bad, it’s-a nice-a place.

Ah, shaddap-a you face!”

Originally published in The Advertiser on July 23, 2015.