Ah, Irony, you Rascal

Walking down the street today. At the chinatown crosswalk, waiting for the lights to change. Lights go green. First car out the gate is a real larrikin aussie, crawling up past in a beatup VL Commodore. I could smell his sweat - and the beer on his breath - from three meters away.

Next up, a burly bloke, the traditional white van driver, with a huge ladder mounted on his roof rack. Must be making more money than my entire company.

Uni girl in a beat-to-shit old Corolla. Books, CDs, Kit Kat wrappers, and er - hot pink 'Extra Large Durex' packet in the back seat. That must be, umm, nice.

And finally, two chinese kids zoom in a brand new BMW 5-series. P-plates (which mean they're under 21). The car costs at least $120k (Dh333k). Neither one speaks a word in English. They look at the three Australiasns with an identical mixture of contempt and utter, snivelling disgust that speaks volumes. Then the passenger remark in Chinese (which my friend translates) that the Australians can't afford even a little bit of water to bathe and that even their maid drives a better car. Fat, uneducated, cultureless slobs, the driver agrees.

Fucking immigrants, I say. How dare they come into this country and then have the arrogance to try and tell the locals how to behave. If they had it so good where they came from, why did they leave? They couldn't afford to drive this car back in wherever-the-fuck-they-came-from, where the import tax would something like 150%. Anyway, their parents are the ones who spoilt them with such toys. In any case, their modern culture - unlike their ancient one - hasn't produced anything worthwhile, I conclude. Fucking immigrants.

Then I stop and think for a second. And slap myself loudly and conclusively on the forehead.