“Fucken slut!” The words were yelled from a bright blue sedan as it passed by the bus stop where I was standing yesterday morning. I was waiting in Lane Cove for a bus to the CBD, from where we’d take the airport link and a plane to Melbourne.
My friend Chris was flummoxed; in five years of living in Australia, he’d never encountered something like this. Maybe my purple jeans were uniquely offensive. I shrugged it off – swearing is part and parcel of Australian culture. I thought this example of graffiti near Brunswick in Melbourne, spotted yesterday afternoon, pretty much summarized our precarious existential position.