A city jogger has exclusively told the Sydney Sentinel and everybody else he barges into that he is far more important than regular pedestrians, and so is his tiny running backpack.
“I’d put my status up there with a footpath cyclist,” said the runner and keen banker. “Even if you’re in the right, you’ll be in the wrong if you get in my way.”
The runner said he and other members of his running club, “The Gravy Train”, had no problem shoulder charging women, children and “retards” who get in their way.
“You better make your way to the other side of the footpath quick smart if you see a group of us elites on a lunchtime power session, Sunny Jim,” he said, sucking back an energy gel before throwing the wrapper on the ground. “You don’t want a combined $746 billion a year to come crashing down on you.”
The runner shoulder charged our reporter, knocking him to the ground, then tisked loudly and ran across the street against the lights, slapping a schoolgirl’s bum as he passed.