As a professional badass, you learn to hate summers. Especially the kind of summers you get in everyone's favourite land of potentially lethal creatures and climates, Australia. It just utterly ruins every attempt to look suitably badass.

Want to head down the beach to show off your awesome muscle and masculine scars? No dice, you'll get tanned to the hue of lobster shell before you've even made it to the water line.

Badass clothing? No good fortune there either. Those awesome boots and sweet leather jacket mean you get cooked like the cow that donated its hide to your fashion sense.

Cooling off with a snack? That's a sure fire reputation killer. No-one can be taken seriously while eating an icy pole and it's hard to find a more suspiciously phallic image than an overly muscled manly man licking one. But I'd wager you already know about that.

Blinged-out necklace? Inspiring right up until the point it scorches a pattern into your neck.

Piercings? Like the necklace, only more so.

Tattoos? Sunshine on a new one is like the molten metal of hell itself coursing over your skin. Sweaty clothing over a new one is like a kettle of salt water over it.

Hiding from the heat? No badass could admit to needing aircon in the first place. Just like none of us will admit to a hospital stay courtesy of acute heatstroke.

So there you have it folks: A few of the pitfalls of being badass in the state of 40C summer days. I should move to Queensland and take up crocodile wrestling. At least they get rain up there.