You know that cousin of Daves? The Townie bloke who lived with his mum until he was 47 then married that woman from the County Council and bought a 10 acre lifestyle block? You know how he is when he gets a cold? Well a bloke ISN'T like that when he gets crook.

A REAL Bloke does NOT whine when he's crook. He does NOT go to the doctor for a flu shot every year like a bloody nancy. He does not carry a nicely pressed hanky around with him - He blows his nose on his hand and wipes it on his jeans, just like his dad did. Unless of course he's out to dinner with the handbrake's workmates, in which case he sneakily blows his nose on his hand then wipes it off when he pats one of the handbrake's co-workers on the back to congratulate him for actually working his first 40 hour week.

Let's hear that again: A BLOKE DOES NOT WHINE WHEN HE'S CROOK! He doesn't sniffle to his mates that he'd rather be dead (especially if they're out possum shooting at the time). He doesn't constantly rabbit on about how he's never felt this crook, how he thinks that this is how his grandad went (even though everyone knows he fell out of the second story of the pub at his 80th birthday party)

A bloke just puts up with it.

Say he's doing a bit of work with the chainsaw (thinning out the stand of trees at the back of the farm, slicing up steaks for the barby or adding an En-Suite to the main bedroom) and he slips and gives himself a little nick and takes off a toe or a foot or something. The *LAST* thing he's going to do is blubber to the handbrake till she packs him off to hospital.
No.
Nope, he'll chuck the missing appendage in a bag of ice, along with a couple of tinnies in case there's a queue at the emergency place, and drive himself there.
Well perhaps that's a little exagerrated, but the basis of understanding is there.