Mean people do, indeed, suck

Running to catch a tram in the city this afternoon, I see a woman of 55 or so being shoved out the door into the street, followed by an abuse-screaming junkie harridan, scrawny arms flailing, who then swings several punches at the other woman's face. When I try and intervene her fat thug of a boyfriend shoves me backwards. Both then reboard the tram spitting curses, and depart.

I, meanwhile, am left to comfort the older woman, who turns out to be a poet I vaguely know through the Melbourne spoken word scene. She's crying, and crouched on the road trying to pick up her scattered belongings. Her lips are crimson with her own blood.

Luckily she was more shaken than hurt, although I stayed with her until her boyfriend could drive in from Brunswick and pick her up, just to make sure she was going to be okay.

Apparently the blue started because she asked the junkie's boyfriend to move over and stop taking up the entire seat.

Karma, you junkie mole. I hope the next time you stagger onto a road while nodding off, you get run over - not fatally, but a few broken bones would be well deserved, I suspect!