G’day knackers (and knackerettes) - the name’s Keith, and I got a beef. Now, don’t get me wrong - I’m not a chronic whinger and I certainly don’t wanna piss on anybody’s parade here, but there are a few things that really get my gander. So the eds asked me to jot a few down, rather than chew the ear off every backpacker around town.
This month, I’d like to lay down a few home truths about a particularly useless pack of bludgers otherwise known as…

My oath, this bunch of nongs is about as useful as a pocket on a singlet, and I’ll tell you that much for free. Yours truly has been all over the world, and had his fair share of run ins with tourist office-type folks on all five continents, but the level of service that these INGUAT jokers bring to the table is about as funny as a fart in a spaceship.
Struth. 98% of the time, your question will be met with a roo-in-the-headlights type stare, or the phone number for some government office in the capital. Or worse, they give a bloke this glossy brochure, with the 24 hour “tourist hotline” number on it.
Talk about all hat, no cowboy - nobody even answers the mongrel, even in business hours!
If you’ve had anything to do with this pack of goons, I know I’m preaching to the choir, but for the rest of yez, I just thought I’d give you an early heads up - INGUAT’s about as useless as an ashtray on a motorbike.