One cold and blustery night I was walking along Lygon St looking like an animated bowling pin, with my big coat zipped to my chin, the hood pulled over my eyes, hunched against the wind. Something soft and powdery hit the pavement near my feet and burst open. It was a bag of flour. I turned to see a car full of men with unfortunate haircuts speed away. One leaned out the window, highlights drifting in the wind.

'FUCK YOU, CUNT!'

I was puzzled. Being a good middle class girl my first thought was 'who, me? But you don't even know me! I'm not a cunt. I don't deserve a drive-by antiquing.' My second thought was 'by Angela Davis' mighty fro YOU SHALL NOT OPPRESS ME!' I mean, honestly, what kind of retarded polo shirt wearing, stupid haircut having, neckless choad would try to rob some strange woman of her dignity by throwing flour at her from a moving vehicle?

Anyway, what do you think? Am I just being a bit humourless here?