CLANCY OVERELL | Editor | Contact
The motorists jammed in back-to-back traffic on the main road of Betoota’s Flight Path District got very close to enjoying some textbook Australian male drama this morning.
It’s believed a very near prang on Birdsville Development road resulted in windows being wound down, and vitriolic comments flying between two hot-headed commuters.
The assumed aggressor, Trent O’Regan (pool builder, 52) had just dropped the kids off at Betoota Flight Path High and was rushing back home for a scheduled phone call with a new client. That was untilhe was cut off by a late 2000s Lexus.
The Lexus driver, a 46-year-old concreter by the name of Joe Camilleri – was also returning from the drop-and-go zone of the nearby Saint Agatha’s Catholic Ladies college.
With middle fingers exchanged and no kids or wives in either vehicle, this blow-up quickly escalated into a fully-fledged road rage incident.
“Are your eyes fucken painted on cunt!?” spits Trent, as he ripped his seatbelt off.
Joe, who was also rushing back to his home office to begin work for the day, decided to pull up his handbrake and put the car in neutral.
As the fellow motorists began hitting their horns and begging the two men to not do what they looked like they were about to do, Trent kept hurling abuse with a series of epithets and emasculating sledges.
Joe returned fire.
“Blow it out your arse you fat cunt!” he yelled.
Trent, now completely overwhelmed by the red mist of toxic masculinity, makes Joe an offer that only a pussy would refuse.
“Get out of the car” he says, with full-chested confidence.
“You wanna do this?” yells Joe, out the unwound passenger window.
“Fucken oath I wanna do this” says Trent, as he approaches Joe’s bonnet.
It was at this moment that Trent spotted something that made him immediately question the situation, and the potential repercussions of this kind of behaviour.
Hanging from Joe’s rearview mirror sat two novelty-sized boxing gloves with the Maltese cross emblazoned across each.
Trent is paralysed by indecision.
Joe undoes his seat belt.
Trent cannot tell if these gloves are a bluff, or is Joe in fact an experienced combat athlete.
Joe opens his door, but is yet to put a foot on the bitumen.
Trents looks harder. He notices that Joe’s nose is far from symmetrical. He also clocks a cauliflower ear.
“Pfft” scoffs Trent, as he begins backpedalling to his ute.
“You’re not worth it cunt”
Trent gets back in his car and continues driving, before taking a premature exit down a side street.
