I bet my night was worse than yours.

So I'm walking back along Smith Street after leaving the quiz night at Grumpy's Green when these two homeless dudes step in front of me and say:

"Give us something".

When I say I haven't got anything, they shove me up against a shop front and repeat themselves:

"Give us something, we have a knife".

There's two voices in the back of my head. One says "There, there, don't worry, just stare off into the distance, maybe curl up into a ball and cry a little, and this will allll go away."

The other says "Nice one jerk, you're not going to do what they say; you just found out that you'd rather get stabbed than hand over your iPod."

Somehow, sadly, nothing in me ever realises that I'm twice the size of either of them, and I could crush them both like bugs.

They up their threat "Give us something, we have a gun".

Time stands still.

My left brain points out that saying their magical knife has turned into a gun means they have neither.

My right brain encourages me to carefully rethink my decision not to burst into tears and soil myself.

We all notice another guy walking up the street towards us. They loosen their grip, I slip out between them and walk away with the new guys as he passes.

"Those guys just tried to stick me up."

"What?"

"Those two guys," I'm nodding at the two homeless dudes who are now making a casual exit towards Victoria Parade, "They were trying to rob me."

He has barely noticed any of us.

We both stop and stare at them. I'm trying to figure out what I should do next. Left brain says "Let them go? Maybe they're just poor sad losers who need to get high?"

Right brain wins with a clearer argument: Fuck'em. I have my phone in my hand; I can't even dial 000 fast enough.

Rob (the guy, nice fellow, you'd like him) and I walk after them. They've almost started a fight with another guy across the road when three cop cars come out of nowhere and pounce, guns drawn. I'm impressed. I'm barely done giving 000 my location and both guys are being assaulted by police. Seriously. I saw one of them, on the ground, handcuffed, get kneed in the face, twice, for talking back.

Right brains says, "That's not cool, should I say something?"

This time left brain wins: Fuck'em.

Smith Street. What a place.