When you look out the window and hate everything you see you know you’re a slightly disgruntled human being. When you get out of bed and truly despise the infinite ways your day could conclude you know you’re a disgruntled human being. When you think back to yesterday and shake your head before a memory truly takes form you know you’re a disgruntled human being. Or, you simply live in a backwater, back end, bogan filled country town (Bogans, for you foreigners are what the Yanks (Yanks are Americans) would refer as rednecks, and the poms (English) would say ‘chav’). I don’t like being called a snob, except when it follows one of my rants about these yobbos (Yobbo is….oh sod it). Let me tell you about something that happened to me yesterday in the local shopping centre and hopefully it clears everything up. I had gone in to buy the basics; milk, cheese (I like dairy, okay?), water, pringles and some breakfast cereal. Not a huge shop, and it wasn’t supposed to be a difficult one. In and out, always the best way to go about life right? Yeah, you know what I mean. Anyway, I take my basket full of goodies to the express isle, because it was supposed to be zippy and stand there in second place. I won’t judge but a rather unhappy looking woman resided behind the counter that day and as I balanced on the soles of my feet to pass the time it became very clear why she looked so shitty. Seriously, she looked shitty. Like someone had flicked her nose, or pinched her cheeks or played a trumpet as she walked past and then proceeded to follow her down the road. There had, however, been no cheek pinching today, and the trumpet was no where to be heard. It was the two lumpy, smelly and rather repulsive human beings in front of us were the culprits. They first became a reality when the words “You bloody derro” left the older one’s toothless mouth and “shove it up your arse” was the retort by the younger, heavily tattooed being. They were mother and son. I am not kidding you here, mother and son, and it wasn’t obvious to us because of genetic signs, but by the way the son screamed out Ï WILL CALL CHILD SERVICES” as the mother punched him in the arm and ribs repeatedly. She wasn’t to be outdone, oh no. Her witty retorts of “You’re too old, they wouldn’t care hahahaha” were award winning in their own right and I have to say the shopping centre certainly was struck dumb. Or was it dumbstruck? They were dumb that’s all I know.
So where were we? Oh yes, punching, screaming, and threats…typical day in Boganville (Latin name for the town I currently live near). I watched in awe as they just did not seem to want to stop. It didn’t matter how many people snickered and leered at them they had no intention of calling it quits. Did I forget to mention that this was all over which cigarettes to buy…yes, which cigarettes to buy. One last time, with feeling…It was over which cigarettes to buy. I’m not making any of this up people. Here they stood, the testaments to modern lives in our town and their little assault show was about which cancer stick they wanted to shove in their mouths that afternoon (Or the moment they got 5 metres clear of the shopping centre). You know what? That’s all I need to say. That should highlight why I’m so goddamn cantankerous this afternoon. These two parasites. That poor cashier lady and her piss poor pay packet doesn’t begin to make up for the crappy Sunday afternoon she just endured. Some people are the worst, and it was, and is these people.
Stay classy, remember the golden rule: Always have more teeth than tattoos. Always.