I was briefly an anal Pink Floyd fan, poring over their lyrics for every hidden meaning (Money – what could that be about?). Ditto for Randy Newman, who had me tracking down interviews to try to work out what was really going on in some of those songs (Short People – did he really not like them?). I even went through a brief phase of trying to make sense of Led Zeppelin (was 'every inch of my love', like, some kind of sexual reference?).

But for the most part, I'm lucky if I get past a song's chorus - and I've managed to get a few of those wrong. For years, I thought there was a line in Hot Chocolate's You Sexy Thing that went 'I believe in milkos'. Well why not? I was a milko once, briefly. I believed in them.

There was another song, by The Go-Gos, which sounded like 'Alex the Seal' to me. And why did Jimi Hendrix want to 'kiss this guy'? I thought he was enthusiastically hetero, man.

Even when I've worked out the words, I'm usually slow on the uptake. For example, as a close observer of pop music, I thought I knew a few things about Frankie Goes to Hollywood. I hated them, by the way. I was shocked to find out years later that Relax, one of their biggest songs, was about, um, premature ejaculation. 'Relax, don't do it, when you want to come'. Molly thought they were great.

Like I said, I was slow on the uptake.

Politicians are especially prone to malapopism. Ronald Reagan briefly toyed with the idea of using Bruce Springsteen’s Born in the USA for his election campaign, until someone pointed out Springsteen was one of them damn liberals, and that the song wasn't quite as patriotic as it sounded. In fact, it’s sung from the point of view of a Vietnam veteran who sounds pretty pissed, frankly, at what his country put him through.

Another example of malapopism writ large is Men at Work's Down Under, often trotted out as an unofficial national anthem. The song's seemingly patriotic tone made it an anthem for the crew of Australia II during their bid to win the America's Cup in 1983, and it was resuscitated years later for no less a nation-defining moment than the closing ceremony of the 2000 Sydney Olympics.

On the surface, Down Under is a jaunty patriotic song the whole family can enjoy. The song’s chorus is 'I come from a land down under', which is innocuous enough, and the word vegemite is in there somewhere, so it’s perfect, right? I recall John Howard nodding approvingly during the Olympics ceremony, which is the ultimate stamp of approval from middle Australia.

I happen to think the song IS the perfect Aussie anthem, but for different reasons. The song is actually largely about drugs: 'Traveling in a fried-out Kombi/ on a hippie trail, head full of zombie', and later, 'Lying in a den in Bombay/ with a slack jaw, and not much to say."

As someone who sucked on a few spliffs in my youth - but never inhaled, you understand – with a large number of my fellow Australians, I think getting ripped is one of the few experiences that can truly bring us together. Even Malcolm Turnbull has puffed the magic dragon.

And getting bent overseas, perversely, is quintessentially Australian. The overseas backpacking trip has long been the Australian rite of passage; it's like national service. Having a trip within a trip (are you with me?), such as you might have in an opium den in Bombay, is an essential part of that experience. So you're never more Australian, I would argue, than when you're off your dial in the middle of a foreign city.

One of my fondest memories from my obligatory three months in Europe, hazy though it is, is of wandering around Amsterdam's red light district, surreal at the best of times, after imbibing a special purchase from one of the city's cafés. I'm talking about coffee, of course.

But while almost every Australian has had an affair with Mary Jane, our deepest collective love affair – nay, marriage - is with alcohol. Lots of it. Too much of it, in fact, and regularly. As Barnsey once sang, 'too much ain't enough love to satisfy me', and he would know. So when I hear the words, 'I come from a land down under/ where beer does flow and men chunder', it brings a tear to my eye. As did some of the more violent chunders of my youth.

The country that chunders together, blunders together. That could work, couldn't it?

I guess I've talked myself full circle. The song is not a malapopism at all. Down Under makes me feel proud to be Australian, whereas the 'proper’ anthem just makes me feel embarrassed. In fact, Advance Australia Fair, with its bizarre use of foreign words ('girt', for God's sake) and blatant racism (if only the fair are advancing, where are those with darker skin going?), is the REAL malapopism.

It's time for a change, I reckon.