I was on the DART last week, minding my own business, when I heard a group of teenage boys from a southside secondary school bantering with each other. Two or three of this group were very "cool", but there was one boy amongst them with an inflamed face covered in acne, who seemed desperate to impress the others, and stay in the gang - if he had ever been in it in the first place. The boy - will call him Andrew - was so anxious to be with his friends, that when they found seats together, he sat on the floor to be near them.

Their conversation started with a party they had been at. One of them - we'll call him John - had "got off" with a girl. John and his friends were deconstructing the experience. John was afraid to say he thought the girl was great - you could hear it in his voice, trying to be cool, as if he kissed girls every day of the week. So he just said she was "okay".

Another one said, "She wanted it." And John said, barely audibly, "Nah - she's a nice girl." Then it started: Another lad said, "did you see Jane fightin'?" "Wha'?' "She kicked him." "Huh?' "In the goolies." "Ow." Andrew has been listening intently, and chooses him moment to make his contribution. "He shoulda kicked her back." "Huh?" "Yea, you could kick her." Muffled snickers.

"Yea, you could head-butt her. Just think where your head would go," says Andrew.

The other boys looked at each other and shuffle uncomfortably.

"Nah, you could kick her. Your foot'd go all the way in. Ha-ha. Your foot. Your foot's inside her." Silence. The other boys are disgusted.

"Your foot's in her. . . ha-ha-ha." I'm sure I wasn't the only one listening. I wanted to grab Andrew, bring him home and tell his parents - or take him to the nearest counselling psychologist. Insecure and possibly bullied, Andrew with his acne-ravaged face was determined to take his torment out on women.