Born some time in the late 1980s (oh, shoot me now), DC Grant was introduced to us in Rivers of London, the first novel in this series, and discovered for himself not only that he was capable of doing magic (his current theory is that it has something to do with quantum physics) but that the Met's venerable Thomas Nightingale is also a wizard, and must be his instructor. In the course of these excellent urban fantasies we learn a lot about Ben Aaronovitch's perceptions of the world. Here's what he thinks of Gillard's, and formerly Howard's, Australia. Given that he seems to expect his readers to get the joke, obviously this is a pretty widespread view.
My dad says that being a Londoner has nothing to do with where you're born. He says that there are people who get off a jumbo jet at Heathrow, go through Immigration waving any kind of passport, hop on the tube and by the time the train's pulled into Piccadilly Circus they've become a Londoner. He said there were others, some of whom were born within the sound of the Bow Bells, who spend their whole life dreaming of an escape. When they do go, they almost always head for Norfolk, where the skies are big, the land is flat and the demographics are full of creamy white goodness. It is, says my dad, the poor man's alternative to Australia, now that South Africa has gone all multicultural.