6.00am: You wake up and skull a bunch of water to cure your hangover. This should be easy after the extensive skulling skills you developed last night from downing goon out of a shoe.

6.05am:
You remember that you have work so you drag yourself out of bed. And by work I mean you have bogan farmers exploiting you for underpaid, back-breaking labour.

7.00am:
You start picking fruit, only to have a red back spider come off the plant and take a shot at your finger.

“What do I do if it actually bites me? Aren’t they like crazily venomous?” you say to your boss.

“Shell be right,” the farmer replies while staring at an 18 year old German backpacker sobbing and picking at the same time. This wasn’t how they pictured ‘finding themselves’ on their gap year.

You google the nearest hospital to find that it is two hours away. A spider bite’s venom will start affecting you in 5 minutes but hey you want your second year visa right?!

3.00pm:
When you finally leave the gulag work, you stroll down to the beach. You look out at the stunning ocean views and the kangaroos hopping around and you think to yourself ‘wow this is what I came to Australia for.’ Your treasured thoughts of these stunning sights are interrupted by a pack of tourists holding selfie sticks and terrorising the native wildlife.

You cringe at the sight of them and then proceed to force a kangaroo to pout with you for Instagram.

3.10pm: You log into Instagram and caption your post;

“Live, laugh, love! Travelling changes you..x0x”

You then express in a Facebook post how at home you are in Australia and how well you know it now, despite only ever interacting with other backpackers from neighbouring countries, who speak the same language as you. #cultured #diverse

7.00pm
You walk back to the hostel where you have a Michelin star meal of pasta with tomato sauce. Ooh goody you get an appetiser tonight as well! You smile to yourself with contentment as you shove an apple in your mouth that you found in the reduced section of Coles.

9.00pm
You walk over to your room with pride, knowing you’ve saved so much money from eating pasta and rations for dinner every day (despite spending a days wages on $10-a-schooner prices at the pub last night). But that won’t be happening tonight- you’re way too hungover so you’re going to have an early night.

The end.

9.20:
You hear a drunk Irishman outside your dorm shouting “who wants free goon?!”

You know you’ll regret this in the morning but you slowly get out of bed and prepare your shoe.