Before we begin, please note that in Australia, âwogâ is a relatively safe term that isnât really considered offensive. Itâs mostly applied to people of European extraction, often by those self same people of European extraction. It is not short for âgolliwogâ as it is in the UK.
Furthermore, except for the odd Trinity Boys flick â and even theyâve dated badly enough to no longer be the exception to the rule â people shooting each other is no laughing matter. Not even when it takes place at 2am in Sydneyâs beloved red-light district of Kings Cross. But when you see witnesses, off their heads, being interviewed to camera, it's hard not to feel some emotion. Thatâs no doubt why my mate Dene posted a link to the clip of it on his Facebook. As it turns out, I'm now madly in love with Swanâs friend, and you will be too after you see her in action. Hereâs the news clip originally from NineMSN. Or download the soundfile, if you prefer. Whatâs not to love?
Sheâs just been getting a hairy biker to etch an image onto her body. Or her friend has:
âMy friend Swan and I came out o the tattoo parlour and there were these two wogs fighting,â she says. âAnd the fatter wog said to the skinnier wog, âoi, broâ, you slept with my cousin, eh?â And the other one said, âNah, man, I didnât fer shit, eh?â The other one goes, âI will call on my fully sick boysâ¦â and then they pulled out a gun and just went, âch-chick â BOOM!â and I ran away, because thatâs all I wanted to see.â
A second after miming the cocking and firing of a gun (with a little bit too much enthusiasm, if you ask me), her voice almost cracks with sorrow, remembering that moment of tragedy and her fear. She does the âlittle sad poppetâ face she no doubt has to pull whenever she wants more attention than sheâs getting from her man â more than his job, his car or his newspaper, no doubt.
But then the journalist asks where it happened, and she vaguely points to one of the strip joints, and when the journalist thanks her, she says âyouâre welcomeâ, beaming a big smile with all the enthusiasm and confidence sheâs been taught to have â despite only seconds ago being manically trigger-happy and then on the verge of tears for the tragic, scary memory, in rapid succession.
How can you not be madly in love with this woman? A mate of mine reckons, judging by her awesome impression of âtwo wogs fightingâ, she can only be a gun-toting gangster wogâs moll.
Straight after Swanâs friend, itâs Jayâs turn to explain what he saw. We know his name is Jay because his concerned girlfriend appears from across the road to try to talk him out of being an identifiable and therefore threatenable witness on national television: âJay, câmon, youâve seen enough tonight, itâs all right. No, seriously man, YOUâVE SEEN ENOUGH TONIGHT!â (You can just see her peeking over the NineSMS watermark.)
Then thereâs another guy who says, âI saw the gun, it was a Glock 9, it was awesomeâ¦â. Yeah, cool, totally; it's 2am at the Cross and that guy thinks he's in the middle of a game of Grand Theft Auto.
If you watch to the end, thereâs a lovely point at which a horde of police are on top of a guy; camera pans to the right, someone in a hoodie is casually sitting in a gutter, sculling a drink, virtually oblivious to the arrest going on just next to him. Another mate asks the essential question: is it a serious report on a real event? Or is it an ad for Schoolies Week?
Of course, itâs an EPIC FAIL for the journo â he should have gotten Swanâs friend, the gun-toting gangster wogâs moll, to show us her tatt(s).