Friday, 18 November 2011

Living in Loser Yobboville

Before I begin my rant I would like to identify myself as an average, working-class Aussie - one retaining a measure of morality and common decency, if somewhat tainted by run-away cynicism.

For various reasons we were forced to lease a 3 bedroom, 5 car garaging townhouse (sight unseen) in a fairly new sub-division. It presented very well in the real estate online ad. Talk about 'looks can be deceiving'.

In reality we got a 2 and a half bedroom with room for 1 full size car in the carport and maybe a motorbike in the garage. The suburb was also very much a "lower socio-economic" area. OK, we got conned, but we could live with that.

What we couldn't live with were the people.
We quickly sold our V8 ute (sob) to fit a smaller car into the shoebox garage. The necessity was brought about by the gangs of kids who roamed the streets nightly, graffiti'ing property and pissing in fuel tanks and letter-boxes. Seriously.

Then there were the burnouts at all hours (from absolute shit-boxes, not even V8's!), a disturbed young man who'd wander up and down the street without shirt or shoes, kicking a football into backyards so he can have a look around. Also there was the random screams that would jerk you awake and make you listen for attackers or follow up yell.
But daytime follows night and the bored little pricks would disperse back into their homes. Into the houses ALL AROUND US.

A particularly uncouth sub-class of white-trash Australians existed directly behind us in a battle-axe block. They used our front yard as a parking lot, graffiti'ed the fence and had loud, very personal conversations that we could not avoid hearing since our neighbours are 2 meters from our back verandah and bedroom windows.

These people were the epitome of the urban lower-class. They are the dole-bludging losers you see on the news when domestic violence goes from fists to knives.

The parents were in their 30's. Their kids are late teens. One of the teenage daughters has a 3 year old and a 5 year old. They all live unhappily in a similar sized house to us, using their garage as several bedrooms, each contributing $160 a week in rent. (Discovered during a screaming argument over who owed rent).

They communicate in moronic low-class drawls while listening to loud commercial radio and use the word "fuck" in every sentence. For instance:
"Where ya fuckin' goin'." 
"Down the fuckin' shops."
Week-ends were a time to max out expletives, fueled by the cheapest beer they have managed to buy with their pooled child-assistance cheques.

I heard this gem through the bedroom window while they were spray- painting (Supercheap had a special on Matt-Black paint). "Hey Dad, this fucking spray can is fucking fucked."

We get used to finding condoms, beer bottles and other rubbish thrown into our back yard. Screaming arguments, broken glass in the street, a girl beaten and crying running from her boy-friend. The level of tension and stress is never-ending and inescapable.

A decision is made to 'fix' an old station-wagon. Soon the trails of oil leading in and out of their driveway, up and down the road and all over our brick frontage is beyond a joke. These self-absorbed, small-minded, short-tempered rejects are totally oblivious to how their actions effect the people around them.

There was NOTHING I could do about it. I cannot start a fight with people who have nothing to lose. They have no focus, few morals and no direction. They live day to day, reacting to obstacles that they let fall in their way with rage and violence. Any sort of confrontation or police assistance would paint a target on our backs. Reasoning with them would be pointless. Any attempt at discussing their behaviour would inevitably degenerate into physical retaliation.

On the up side, I eventually left that place. And I take some valuable insights from that urban hide. The minds of the barely literate, irresponsibly procreating, unimaginative dregs of our society were open to me. I've lost hope for future generations.

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