Last Friday night my partner Lynda and I took in 3 shows at the Melbourne International Comedy Festival. We thought we’d make the most of it and simply book a cheap hotel on line and stay in the city, making the night seem almost like we were tourists in our own city.

It was an inspired choice as we saw 3 diverse acts, wandered the streets and laneways of Melbourne and took in the vibrant nightlife. Our first show at 6pm was the Finnish comedian Ismo who we had seen at a gala last year in Montreal and we vowed to see him again if given the opportunity. He didn’t disappoint and we then had a long gap to our next act and one of our favourites, Steve Hughes who wasn’t coming on till 10.30pm.

We grabbed a superb meal in Chinatown, sitting at the window people watching and afterwards headed to the hub of the festival, the Melbourne Town Hall to see if there was something else to see in the interim. A man and woman with wild eyes and insane smiles dressed in pyjamas approached us with a flyer and invited us to their show. The timing was perfect so we trotted along to see these guys, “The 2 Little Dickheads” which was irreverent lunacy at its best.

Finally, it was Steve Hughes, a comic more popular overseas than in his native Australia. This was the 3rd time we had been lucky enough to catch him and after seeing him at last year’s festival we weren’t sure we would see him ever again as he was so sick. Fortunately, he looks well and has settled in Melbourne to live. Steve’s comedy reminds me a lot of the late great Bill Hicks, whereby he challenges everything from religion, politics, political correctness, advertising, the capitalist system and of course these days, social media.  Having looked death right in the face he can be very poignant one minute, then quickly have you doubled over in laughter. It was a masterclass over 100 minutes in an intimate setting of approximately 80 punters.

The following morning, we caught the train for the 20-minute journey home. We were seated in front of two 15 or 16 year-old girls who were sitting directly across the aisle from 4 nuns. Now I’ll say that again because it’s critical ok? That’s right, 4 nuns. Not 4 everyday nuns, modestly dressed in Melbourne greys and blacks with a crucifix around their necks, these were very powerful looking nuns from a really serious religious order dressed in full white dresses and habits, with really big crucifixes around their necks, with rosary beads in their hands and all were reading some literature from the latest Pope, you know the nice one from South America.

Lynda and I were sitting in front of the girls and diagonally across from the nuns. The kids are going on and on very loudly about boys mainly, and proclaiming their problems with them. “How can I expect to like him if he won’t answer me! I’ve sent messages on Facebook and Snapchat and he just ignores me! He’s such a c…t!

Excuse me? I jolted upright and gave the girl a death stare and to her credit she said “sorry” straight away. I waved my hand, palm upright, George Costanza-style in the direction of the nuns who, unmoved and in shock, had clearly heard the profanity. The girl looked at me confused as to why I actually thought the presence of the nuns had exacerbated what she had said!

It made me think, what exactly did this girl need to have in the vicinity to prevent her from uttering such a word? Jesus Christ perhaps?… complete with loin cloth and carrying the cross apologising to other passengers as he awkwardly found a vacant couple of seats, one for him and one to accommodate the cross? How poorly must your level of self-awareness be that you failed to care that 4 nuns were a metre away before feeling the need to drop the “C word”?

Steve Hughes argues that we have become incredibly politically correct and scared of freedom of speech but he also believes in decency and respect. This generation seem to have taken the freedom of speech to an extraordinary sense of entitlement that is incredibly misguided at times. We were ratbags as kids but we daren’t not swear in front of adults let alone 4 nuns! My Mum passed away just short of 92 and I never swore in front of her, EVER! Same thing with my Dad who made it to 85 and would have belted me into next week had I sworn in front of him.

We got off at the same station as the girls and they walked in front of us wearing their netball club windcheaters. The nuns all peered from the train window as the girl, utterly oblivious to the trauma inflicted on the nuns, continued her conversation concerning the boy who refused to contact her. He’s made a wise decision.