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This is a question Mini Cabs From Hell

We've all taken a dodgy cab in our time. One guy asked me to give him a back-rub in exchange for letting me off the fare. I was like, "here's the cash mate." Another chappy claimed to be Paddy Patel - a child actor from UK TV series Tuckers Luck - he drove like a speed freak and regaled me with stories that "playing a black Irish boy. England wasn't ready for it." So go on - tell us your worst and we'll tell the world.

[edit: for those confused by the term mini-cab, London has two sorts of taxis: highly regulated, licensed and salt-of-the-earth black cabs that you see in films and a whole bunch of unlicensed, uninsured, random cars driven by nutters who aren't supposed to pick up from the street (you have to phone for them). They are universally rubbish]

(, Wed 26 May 2004, 21:44)
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Small blue tablets and a red Ferrari:
Where the hell was I?

Somewhere in the north I think. OK, imagine the cabbie is a northerner:

Cabbie: "Do you like the drugs lads?"

Us: "Yes. Immensely. In fact we're enjoying them right now"

Cabbie: "I used to hate them - then this Viagra come along..."

Note: Viagra in this case is pronounced "Vee-Aggerer".

Cabbie: "...changed my life it did - that Viagra..."

Us: *nervous wait for annecdote*

Cabbies: "...On Sundays (pronounced "Sun-deees") when the Formula 1 is just about to start - I neck a Viagra. One hour later I'm riding the Missus shouting 'Come on Schuey! Come on Schuey!'"

Us: "This is our stop"

I will never forget this moment. I'm a huge Grand Prix fan and ever since that day in the mini-cab I spare a thought for the driver and his wife at both the start of the race and again when Martin Brundle says "We're at the halfway stage here at Imola...".
No my friend. For some the race has just begun.

Come on Schuey!
(, Thu 27 May 2004, 11:15, closed)

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