When I first visited Sydney back in 1995, it was at the end of an organised tour of the country with AAT Kings - a large Australian coach tour company. On that occasion I had been travelling with my father, and on our first night back in Sydney we had met up with one of his friends for a meal at a local restaurant called "Edna's Table". The choice of venue for the meal may well have had something to do with the fact that dad's friend knew the owners, but I didn't care - it was a chance for me to sample the more "upmarket" restaurant scene in Sydney. The strange thing about Edna's Table was that it felt like it was in the middle of the South Bank Centre on the Thames in London - when we arrived, we found ourselves surrounded by large concrete buildings on multiple levels, with concrete steps everywhere, concrete fountains in the middle of otherwise wide open concrete squares, and chrome railings all over the place for no other reason than to make the place look contemporary and give me a word to use other than "concrete". Edna's Table itself was clearly trying to be as ultra modern as possible, with a chrome staircase which wound around one internal wall up to the balcony. We were able to sit upstairs and look through the railings down onto the heads of people eating below - it was actually quite a strange experience. This was clearly considered a classy place to eat, as the food was all gloriously over the top - and I remember thinking that it would have been nice if I hadn't needed a knife to cut the soup. Just to add that extra touch, the chef had even gone so far as to write the word "Edna's" on the top in cream - which, I think you'll agree, is not usually what you expect when you order a bowl of soup. But what do I know - I'm obviously not cultured enough for this sort of thing. In fact, I demonstrated this marvellously by looking over the menu with my usual slowly dawning horror, and finally discovered that the only thing which even meant anything to me was the Fish and Chips. When the waiter brought it to the table, on a gloriously over the top silver platter, he made no effort at all to disguise his obvious disdain at my choice, looking down his nose at me as he said "Bloody typical Pommie dinner."

"Why is it on the menu, then?" I asked, figuring that this was, at least, a sensible question deserving of a sensible answer. Without even batting an eyelid, the waiter replied: "The peasants are coming" before turning with a flourish to descend the stairs.

The next night, our last in the city, we had booked a table at an Aussie dinner show, something which we thought would give us one last taste of Australian madness before we left for pastures new. At 7.15pm, a coach arrived outside the hotel to collect us, something which gave me a pretty good idea straight away that we were in for something unusual - when's the last time you went to a show and they sent a bus to pick you up? On board, we were treated to a hearty welcome by a very eccentric little man in period costume, dressed as a convict from the first fleet and calling himself Gaylord Bigmouth - a name which was more than appropriate as he didn't stop talking all night. Gaylord was a huge character, always holding his stomach and roaring with laughter or regaling us with stories of the first fleet peppered with light jokes. He kept us all in good spirits throughout the short drive to the Argyle restaurant, where we all crowded inside feeling as though we had already been given a show before we'd even arrived.

Inside, everybody was in pioneer costume. There was the owner, Freddy Fuddpucker, Lady Dorothy, Father Percy, Gaylord Bigmouth himself and a range of other bizarre characters who went around while we were eating, cracking jokes and poking fun at anyone who looked as though they needed to be made fun of. In short, the whole thing was gloriously politically incorrect and everybody seemed to be fair game - clearly, Australian entertainment aims to be as raucous as possible, however offensive it might seem - so if you've got a big nose then it's probably best to go into these places fully expecting to be greeted with "Hello, you must be Mr and Mrs Bignose. This way to your table" - but we all came away with a big smile on our faces so obviously nobody was too offended on this occasion. I really didn't get the impression that anyone would have cared if anyone had been, to be honest - you're probably supposed to know what you're letting yourself in for when you buy a ticket to a show like this!

The restaurant and showroom had been made up to look like an old warehouse in the era of the first fleet, and it felt very authentic - there was even a pair of stocks in the corner into which visitors seemed to get thrown for the most trivial offences. On one occasion, somebody was hauled out of their seat next to the stage, put in shackles and thrown into the stocks for daring to have a better view of the show than his mother. There was also a courtyard off to one side where people were regularly taken for a "good whipping" for not clearing their plate, for instance. The dinner itself was buffet style, and the traditional Australian food advertised on the flyer turned out to be Kangaroo Tail soup and Kangaroo Steak - so, as you can imagine, I didn't help myself to too much as I didn't fancy a good whipping for being unable to eat a Kangaroo.

Over the course of the evening, we were given a real mix of entertainment from the period characters which made up the cast. Things started off quite slowly, with Lady Dorothy taking the stage and singing us a selection of old Australian folk songs - only some of which we were familiar with. This lulled us into a false sense of security, and we began to relax back into our seats and enjoy her lilting voice, smiling at the extras dressed as convicts who were collecting our plates and occasionally pretending to be caught trying to steal something out of someone's handbag and being carted off to the stocks. After we'd all been invited to join in for a chorus of Waltzing Matilda, the true face of the evening started to show itself as Lady Dorothy was replaced on stageby Freddy Fuddpucker and Gaylord Bigmouth who were clearly the comedy double act of the show. There followed what seemed like nearly an hour of people being pulled at random out of the audience to be mercilessly picked on in front of everybody and made to feel as stupid as possible. A member of the audience was called up to represent every nationality in the restaurant, and invited to attempt to play the didgeridoo - something which very few people were able to pull off, especially with Freddy picking the most beautiful girls he could find out of the audience, handing them the didgeridoo and then crouching next to them throughout saying things like "No, darlin' - put your lips inside it, not around it... Strewth, I'm takin' you home tonight.

One of the most unusual elements of the show, considering that we were in a restaurant in the heart of the city, was the live sheep shearing demonstration. A burly Aussie appeared on stage, carrying a sheep, and then proceeded to shear it in front of us in a ridiculously short amount of time - a matter of seconds. In fact, he spent the entire time boasting about how fast he could remove an entire fleece from any sheep you cared to give him, which struck me as a slightly odd thing to want to boast about. Nevertheless, he had no difficulty finding volunteers from the audience who were more than happy to give it a go, producing another sheep out of nowhere for them to try it on. Surprisingly, the animal didn't seem to be remotely bothered that some guy who had probably never even been this close to a sheep before was suddenly hacking at him with a sharp instrument and making a huge mess of the whole thing - but, of course, it just gave the burly Aussie another chance to show off how quickly he could turn this botched attempt into a nicely shaved animal. Sometimes, I worry about Australians...

One thing I've noticed since arriving in Sydney this time around (1998) is that the advertising on hoardings and bill-boards for the 2000 Olympics seems to have become a lot more low-key than it was the last time I was here in 1995 - rather strange considering just how close we're getting to the event. At the moment, most of the hoardings are advertising the upcoming Gay Pride Mardi-Gras, which will be happening at the beginning of February - there is very little mention of the Olympics at all.

So, have I got anything bad to say about Sydney? Well, the only thing that has put a damper on my visit so far are the profusion of notices pinned hap-hazardly on every wall of every building around Paddington, Oxford Street and the outer suburbs which read "Have you seen this girl? Last seen vicinity of Hyde Park. Parents desperately worried. Please call."

This, unfortunately, does rather bring me back down to Earth. For all its good points, in many ways Sydney is no different from any other big city the world over.

About Simon and Burfords Travels:

Simon Burford is a UK based travel writer. He will be re-publishing his travel blogs, chapters from his books and other miscellaneous rantings on these pages over the coming weeks and months, and the entry on this page may not necessarily reflect todays date.