Another day, another incident at Gosford train station.
I was sitting at the platform enjoying my now daily treat of redskins and milkos when the all stops train pulled into the station. The usual faces piled out in a quiet shuffle, happy that their mundane day was coming to a close. Then a ruckus was heard emerging from the train.
YOU FUCKING KIWI CUNT FUCKING CUNT I'LL FUCKING TAKE YOU NOW FUCKING CUNT.
The tirade of abuse was spewing forth like an unchecked oil fire was coming from a man of 40 to 50 years in age. Sporting traditional Australian attire of board shorts and thongs with a duffel bag, he stumbled from the train backwards, his free arm shooting out to regain balance. He turned on the balls of his feet and with the arm already extended formed a pointing gesture with his hand. He shot the menacing digit at another gentleman who had began to emerge from the train.
I use the term gentleman lightly, as the man would be no more than 2 years my senior. He was a well built lad rippling with muscles barely contained by his singlet top. Ink scattered all over his body in various tribal designs and patterns. He was of islander appearance, but which specific island I could not tell you. I do know however he lacked the build to be of the Samoan or Tongan persuasion.
The young man the force of the abuse and retorted accordingly
YOU TALKING BIG EH BRO WHY YOU RUNNING? COME FUCKEN HERE AND WE'LL SORT IT OUT ON THE PLATFORM YOU FUCKEN CUNT.
To which the older gent replied
FUCKING KIWI CUNT I'LL FUCKING TAKE YOU CUNT YOU FUCKING THINK YOU'RE FUCKING TOUGH CUNT I CAN TAKE 2 KIWIS MYSELF CUNTS YOU FUCKS.
The heated discussion was in full swing. I dared not move from my sitting position in close radius, lest my movements scare the local townsfolk. Instead I chose to complete my sudoku puzzle before my train arrived, listening in to their intense conversation so I could relay it to all six people who read my blog.
The younger man, who remained in the train, once again invited the elder to a rousing bout of fisticuffs.
FUCKING COME BACK IF YOU CAN TAKE ME CUNT, YOU WANT TO PUSH OVER AN OLD MAN CUNT I'LL FUCK YOU UP.
Aha! The motive behind the conversation had been revealed!
SEE YOU IN SYDNEY CUNT I'LL FUCKING SEE YOU IN SYD-GOSFORD FUCKING CUNT SHIT FUCK.
The older man grew weary of the battle and confusion had set in, he stumbled further away from the train and spun to find himself face to face with five security guards.
HE'S THE FUCKING ONE CUNT WHO FUCKING STARTED IT THE FUCK
His heightened adrenalin levels proved to be his folly, as the men in blue did not take kindly to his raised voice at such close range.
Meanwhile the tattooed lad conversed in a more quiet manner to the other guards, it was proven that the senior did indeed push over and even older man in an effort to leave the train post-haste. And the islander fellow rushed to defend the enfeebled gent's honour.
My train rolled in to the station silently amongst the background noise.
I took my leave from the ghastly scene and fell into a peaceful slumber, aided by the charming melodies, of those who fight foo.