Prepubescent Groupthink Attack

Today I experienced a strange five minutes, wherein I was surrounded by a group of children.

I was sitting on a bench in the main street, listlessly fiddling with my phone in the sunshine.
I was pulled from my isolation by a sudden increase in ambient sound and I raised my head.
Gathered in front of me was, I would guess, about a dozen children, bustling and noisily chatting amongst themselves, but with a few having turned their attention on me.
It was weird. I don't know if they'd been there pushing against my isolation bubble for long, but they were here now.
They seemed interested in my shirt, which has written across the front "glasses makes you sexy" as if scrawled in crayon. I'm a big fan of the shirt. They were not.
The group spoke in that raised, high-pitched tone of voice you can only really achieve when you're brushing up against the first years of teenagedom while surrounded by friends you must impress with your boisterousness.
After a general cloud of commentary where my t-shirt was read out a few times, one boy stepped forward and leaned in low to look at my phone.
"What you doin'?" He asked.
"Checking my email," I replied.
"Cool! that's cool. That's really cool."
"Why thank you," I said.
Another boy came up.
"Do you like them?" the second boy questioned, gesturing towards the phone.
"Oh, you know," I said, "it does the trick."
"Well it sucks!" He said. As he spat out the words he faced me with an expression of unconvincing venom, but his eyes darted hopefully at is compatriots.
"Oh, alright then," I said, and put the phone in my pocket."
One of the boys shouted "read his shirt read it read it" and the lone girl of the group stepped forward. Her brow furrowed as she read the slogan.
She looked at me and pointed a finger in my face.
"You're NOT sexy!" She said with surprising menace, and stormed away into a fog of laughter.
"Well, that was a tad on the fucking rough side," I replied, trying not to giggle to no-one in particular. The group was drifting off in her wake.
Then a small boy with tightly curled, brown hair came up to my side. He had a bright red plaster cast covering his entire left arm and he stood away from the others.
"Did you just swear?" He asked.
"Yes I did. Sorry," I said back.
"I'm a Christian," he said as he continued to stare at me from inches away.
"Oh ... well. I'm ... sorry?" I said, somewhat bemused by this point of the proceedings.
"Well you shouldn't swear. I'm a Christian and I hate it and you shouldn't," he stated - quickly but matter-of-factly.
"I'll try not to," I said, finally failing to suppress the smirk that had been brewing for some time.
He walked off and broke into a jog to catch up to his friends. As he did so he yelled "that guy just swore at your sister," to another member of the group.
A boy spun around and bellowed "don't you swear at my sister you fucking c__t!"
The boy with the cast and faith stiffened visibly.
Soon after they were gone and everything was once again silent.
As I stood up to leave I thought "I'm totally going to blog that".