We were nearly home, stopped at the intersection of Carrington and South Streets, when Grumpy was startled from his stupor by someone knocking on his window. It was a rather worried-looking Japanese man. I'd be worried too. Standing in the middle of Carrington Street late at night is fraught with danger.
The worried man asked us a question. All I heard was a ssseries of sssibilant sssoundsss as I anxiously checked the mirrors for approaching hoons.
"Isisisisisisis?"
"Wha?" we both asked, hospitableness being a byword with us.
Turns out he was asking if this was South Street. We were able to scream at him "Yes!" as the light turned green and we sped off, leaving him to the mercies of the bogans of Fremantle.
Grumpy told me that in his slightly, ahem, overwrought and emotional state, he at first thought the poor man had asked him, "Is this Australia?" He was tempted to answer, "Nah, mate. Wrong country. This is Western Australia."
1 comment:
I must protest that the Wiki definition of "bogan" is grossly inadequate, and unfashionably Marxist,concentrating on class as the sole deiner of boganism.
I know plenty of people much better off than I who I'd describe as "bogan", "bevan" or even "booner". Class has nothing to do with it.
In fact, in my experience, the much maligned bogan has little to no class.
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