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!
( Your Mum, Thu 27 May 2004, 11:15, Reply)

Rotten cabbage
Getting a cab home in Dublin one night after a solid drinking sesion. Its about 6am and the only cabbies left on the road are pure deviants and drunkards.

I recieved the latter. It was quite obvious he was drunk, because he told me so and, needlessly, pointed to the an empty bottle of gin to emphasize the point.

Being as late as it was I knew my chances of getting another cab were slim, so I buckled up and remained in the "brace for impact" position.

About a mile from my house there was a terrible noise, the car veered across the road and sparks began to fly around the car. I saw the front left wheel bouncing merrily down the road in front off us. Cabbie seemed perfectly unfazed or unaware of events and attempted to drive on. I was struck dumb with shock/fear. The car, sparks flying and screaming like a banshee,lurched into a ditch on the side of the road. Eventually, having a moment of clarity, cabbie gets out to see whats wrong. He studies the mangled wreckage of the front of his car, scratching his head and furrowing his brow, in a vain attept to comprehend the situation. Then he has a master stroke! He whips his cock out and pisses on the damaged area. Probably believing his unrine contained some form of magical tonic.

I got out of the car a feigned concern for a minute, stroking my chin and kicking the axle in a knowledgable way. Then he started to cry. Sensing my opportunity, I began to back away slowly, then sprited like the wind all the way home.

Lying in bed that night I swear I could still hear his gentle sobbing.
(Smell eep!, Thu 27 May 2004, 11:30, Reply)

Does this count?
A mate of mine Big Tim, was out enjoying cold drinks one night in fashionable Leicester, and at the end of the evening he decided to hail a mini-cab.
The crazy guy.
Anyway, a guy pulls up and Big Tim tells him his address '10 King Road, Please'.
And away they go.
On arrival at Big Tim's house, he asks driver 'How much do I owe you?'
'I'm not a cab driver.'
'What?'
'I thought you were kidnapping me.'

Tim is Big. He got his lift home for free, needless to say he had the last laugh.
(Sex Panther, Thu 27 May 2004, 10:53, Reply)

Newquay
After a most ill-advised night out in Newquay, surrounded by post-gcse teenagers up to their tiny little eyeballs in mad-dog 20:20, me and a mate decided that we couldn't take much more and hopped a cab back to the campsite.

Now, this was very late and we were both worse for wear, but the the driver seemed fine. A bit crazed and a bit heavy on the gas, perhaps, but this was Cornwall and that's what they're like down there.

Then i mentioned how many seagulls there were roosting on the side of the road.

"Yes," said the driver. "Better do something about that".

So he started swerving over both lanes smacking the poor little buggers under his wheels and off of the wings, trying to get as many of them as he could.

When we finally got back to the campsite, the front of the cab was one big mass of feathers and blood. And one small head, sticking out of the radiator grill.

We didn't tip. We were too busy chucking up.
( Grouch would quite like his clients to stop being numptys, Thu 27 May 2004, 10:04, Reply)

Picture the scene
It's about 1am. You're sober as a judge. The roads are empty. You've been sitting in the front of a cab quietly driving for about 10 minutes. Nothing has happened, the radio isn't on and you certainly haven't said or seen anything.

Then the driver just starts laughing... uncontrollably, shoulder shaking, spittle flecking the windscreen laughter. No reason, no explanation and seemingly no stopping.

I sat there, naturally shitting my pants, waiting for the sudden 'left turn' down a wrong side road. Then for no good reason, as I ran through all the horrible things that could/would happen - I pictured him turning around and vomiting on me. For even less of a good reason I found this to be funny. So funny that I myself started laughing. And so both of us like complete fucking idiots laughed all the way back to my front door.

It cost £11
( moonjam, Wed 26 May 2004, 22:14, Reply)

This happened this week in America.
Cab driver: Hey, I hear y'all don't have guns in England.
Me: That's right, we don't.
(Incredulous pause)
Cab driver: Then what do you use?
( MissPrism, Thu 27 May 2004, 2:02, Reply)

not me (2)
A friend of mine recently recounted a tale of how a shady cab driver had whisperingly enquired if he 'still watched...er... videos?'. Asking why, the cabbie replied "I..er.. have some 'videos' for sale... if you're interested?". Not one to miss up the chance for some hot porn he agreed to take a look and the cabbie drove to a near by carp park. Popped open the boot and there, spread out were second hand copies of Splash, Inner Space and Only Fools & Horses...

My favourite part is that he still bought the copy of Splash.
( moonjam, Wed 26 May 2004, 22:34, Reply)

wotw
On a very very lazy day I decided to get a taxi into college. I can't remember how, but the conversation turned to War of the Worlds and most bizzarrely the name of the tug boat.

After a couple of quite minutes where neither the driver or I could remember it's name, he shouted "fuck it!" pulled over, got out and opened his boot. I assumed there was something mechanically wrong and so I made to get out and help but he ushered be back in clutching... a fucking CD of War of the Worlds - which he THEN proceeded to put on and despite being about 30 seconds from my destination wouldn't let me get out until we'd gotten to the right track.

"Thunderchild! Fucking Thunderchild! I fucking knew it!" he cried.
( moonjam, Wed 26 May 2004, 22:23, Reply)

urban legend
but can you give it try:

man (we'll call him bob) gets a cab from a rank outside a train station, the driver is rude and pisses the man off etc. next time tbob is at the station, he spies the same driver at the back of the line and goes along each cab offering oral sex to the drivers in return for a free ride. each one is disgusted, until he gets to the driver at the end and just gets in and pays him. as he is driving past the rest of the cabs he gives the thumbs up sign to the parked drivers. hilarious.
( rnuk http://flickr.com/rnuk, Thu 27 May 2004, 0:51, Reply)

Cross Yourself
I used to live in Romania, in a town called Brazov. In the centre of town is a big church that all Romanians cross themselves whenever they pass. Whether it's on a bus, car, or walking, they continually cross themselves until they're well passed.

One day I took a "Dukes Of Hazzard" styled minicab ride that passed the church. I was already cacking myself because the seatbelt didn't work and I could really sense a crash comming. When we passed the church the cabbie took both hands off the wheel, closed his eyes, and began crossing himself.

Perhaps he intended the power of god to drive the car. But when he opened his eyes he seemed surprised to see me gripping onto the steering wheel and guiding the car around a bus at 40 miles an hour.

I think I deserved a discounted fare as I did steer the car myself for 150 meters.
(McGeorge, Thu 27 May 2004, 14:17, Reply)

Not the cabbie's fault but...
I was walking home, very, very drunk one night and decided to take a short cut down an alley. I live on quite a large housing estate, on which many of the rows of houses look the same. So, I emerge from my short cut and walk down a couple of familiar-looking roads before arriving at my road, only to find that it's not my road. In fact, squinting to read the road sign, it's a road of never heard of. Somehow, I've got myself lost.

I wandered around, lost for about two hours before I happened upon a phone box, wherein I phoned the local cab firm. I read out the address of the phone box, from the information displayed inside and requested a cab home. I thought I detected laughter at the other end of the line as I put the receiver down.

Five minutes later, a taxi turns up and I get in. "Martin Hardie Way", I say and the driver pulls away, changes up to second gear, turns a corner and stops. 20 seconds into the cab ride and I'm home. For nearly three hours, I'd been wandering around on my bloody doorstep.
( <>Dog www.stevelaker.blog, Thu 27 May 2004, 9:36, Reply)

I don't like taxis :(
I find it way more fun to stumble into a pizza place after a drinking binge, and order a pizza to be delivered to my house, and get them to deliver me too. It works every time.

Sometimes, I even get free chips.
(cookiemonster, Thu 27 May 2004, 20:03, Reply)

The scariest cab ride I ever took was in Dubai
Very much a London-mini-cab-style experience. Cab turned up, we pile in, and discover that the driver is a huge rastafarian with dub reggae blasting out of the stereo and a big joint on the go.

He's got one hand hanging onto the handle above the door, and the other holding his big fat spliff.

And, er, no hands at all on the steering wheel.

The car's an automatic, so he doesn't need to change gear. He ain't stopping, so he doesn't need the handbrake. And why bother holding the wheeel when you can steer with your knees?

This bastard proceeds to drive us through town and out to where we're going without touching the wheel once with his hands, including navigating a couple of clover-leaf highway junctions.

We thought we were going to die... although the passive smoking took the edge off it.
( chaotic_illuminator proud spacehopperist, Thu 27 May 2004, 14:21, Reply)

Serves him right
A few years back, a fella I know(lets call him Chris), after a heavy night on the beers, decides to get a mini cab home. Now Chris lived with his parents in a massive house, and was by no means short of a few quid. Upon arriving at the entrance to his 200m long drive, he decides to jump out of the cab just as it stops in with the plan being to run away and hide in the bushes in order to save himself from paying the £4.40 fare. Clever eh? Not so clever when he runs down a little lane, slips in some mud, falls and breaks his leg, in the pouring rain at 3am. Needless to say the taxi driver couldn't find him, and Chris spent two and a half hours dragging himself up the drive in agony, to his front door. The best part - when he finally reached his door he couldn't stand, and the doorbell was just out of reach. He ended up waiting there until 7am, when the milkman found him and called an ambulance! To be honest I think he deserved it....

Sorry for length
(SharkyMarky, Thu 27 May 2004, 11:34, Reply)

once again, in Leeds
got a cab home from a bar behind the corn exchange. turned out we'd nicked someone elses, so I gave the unlucky punter a cheery wave.

sadly, this just infuriated him and he started attacking the cab, trying to open the door/smash the window.

taxi driver: "do you want to get out and fight him?"
me: "no, you're alright mate, I'll just go home thanks".

very courteous!
(Anger...Pain...Fear...Aggression...Watercolours?, Thu 27 May 2004, 15:46, Reply)

Homophobe
Got in a cab outside of A Gay bar in Newcastle, me being gay and frequenting such places. A large queue of people behind me waiting for cabs.

Cabbie gets on his radio and informs his collegues that he is 'Picking up at faggots' and that there is a queue

Then he turns around and says 'no offence'
I said the same when I didn't give him a tip
(DryGoldfish, Thu 27 May 2004, 21:08, Reply)

Bournemouth Taxi Drivers.
Bournemouth Taxi Drivers are gods among men.

1. End of September last year, there's a Labour Party Conference down here. There are armed police everywhere, all the drains and manholes have been checked for bombs, roads are closed off. The usual. The taxi driver I get? Hates the government. Wants to blow up Tony. He tells me this very loudly and often as we drive along.

He then says he reckons the police are really looking for Bin Laden, not bombs. I, jokingly, say that maybe they'll find him. The taxi driver doesn't like this idea, as Bin Laden is, apparently, his uncle.

2. Big, hulking black guy. The sort that'd scare the utter shit out of you if you met him in a dark alleyway. Reeks of weed.

"Do you mind if I call you John?" he asks, as soon as I get into the taxi with a mate. I must note that I am not called John. Before I have the chance to reply, he's off, and nearly slams into a police car.

"Police are bastards," he says. We, naturally, agree. He turns to me.

"Why you call police bastards for?"

Now. We're in this taxi for a ten minute journey. No matter what we say, that is his only response: "Why you call police bastards for?"

Occasionally, it was interspersed with him turning to my mate in the back seat and asking "Why does John call police bastards for?" - Usually when we're going through traffic and he's on the wrong side of the road.

We get to the party we're going to. The taxi driver turns to me, with a huge grin, and says "John. Why you call police bastards for?" whilst starting to piss himself laughing. He'd been playing with us.

Git.
( gone, Thu 27 May 2004, 14:12, Reply)

Mad psycho cabbie
While at uni my mates and I got into a local mini cab driven by a very pleasant Indian gentleman. You know the sort, beaded seat cover on all the seats in the car, a CD with a horrible rainbow pattern hanging down from the rearview mirror which can only serve to blind anyone looking roughly in the direction of the mirror. Fag burned seats and carpets, I'm sure you know the drill.

Well, he was supposed to be taking us into town from our university halls but for some reason decided to take a completely different route to that which normal cabs take. It soon dawned on us we were going nowhere near town at all. When we questioned him, he told us that he was taking us back to his house to meet his wife because she didn't believe he drove a cab so he wanted to show her some customers. We all started to suggest that this was, perhaps, not the best of things to try and that we were sure his wife would be fine after a little sleep and some valium. Our driver, however seemed to be strangely immune to our calls and when we were about to open the door of a moving car and leap from it, the police pulled him up for speeding.

He went on to tell the police that he was taking us to see his wife, that the speedo on his car was broken and he didn't know how fast he was travelling, that he was not a licensed cabbie and that he was unnisured because he couldn't afford the sky high premiums. Obviously the policemen were slightly taken aback by this outburst of truth. In fact they thought he was being sarcastic at first, and we all know that there is nothing the police like less than sarcasm. Not even crime.

They took him away in a police car and told us they would send someone to pick us up as we were by now in the middle of nowhere. When we were finally dropped off at the student union from the back of a meat wagon everyone thought we had been nicked ourselves. To this day I still have nightmares about our favourite cabbie.
(_earwaxuk_, Thu 27 May 2004, 11:10, Reply)

One of many
We're in Greenwich. He eventually turns up about 30 minutes late. We get in. I say "we're going to ********". "Where ?" he asks. I said "********. Just head north of the River, and I'll direct you".
I swear, he says, "What river?"

(to non-londoners out there, I assure you, anyone in Greenwich who doesn't know where the Thames is has a real navigation problem)
( wonko the sane, Thu 27 May 2004, 0:07, Reply)

No shit, there I was....
here I am, a small girl of about.... 14? I take the bus out to Prince George for a flight down to kelowna for my Grandparent's 50th anniversary; all well and good, but I needed the Taxi from the Station to the Airport.

Nothing serious; phone the cab, wait with luggage outside, right?

Wrongo....

I got told to walk over to the mall, where there were taxi's waiting.
Signifigantly peeved, I still did so, walking with all the 14 year old independance I could muster.

There was one cab there, as if daring me to take it.
so I did.

It reeked to high heaven.
The man was one of those old (And possably incontenant) men, who gave me a toothless grin and started driving like a lunatic all the way to the airport.
I was signifigantly frightened.

And then he pulls out a joint, and starts smoking away, in the middle of traffic "For his Glaucoma"

Now, people who know me know I have no tolerance for drugs at all; one whiff of the stuff and I'm giggling and examining the lines on the seat next to me.

When I finally get out and giggle my way to security and give me this look.

Here I was, 14, alone; reeking of shit and pot, trying to get past security.

After I calmed down and explained the situation, I was let through.

Sorry for the length...
(whirled peas, Thu 27 May 2004, 0:05, Reply)

hatred
On our way into town one evening I was sitting in the front, chatting to our strongly opinionated driver, his gamut stretching from 'they should bloody lock em all up' and 'fucking paedophiles are worse than blacks' - the usual Nazi fair.

He then started talking about his 'secret drops'. It turns out that this guy gets paid £500 to have something put in his boot, driven to London and taken out again without him knowing or seeing what. He said he didn't mind as the money was so good. To which I casually remarked that it "was probably child porn".

He didn't say a word the rest of the journey.
Result.
( moonjam, Wed 26 May 2004, 22:50, Reply)

A shocking one from Moscow
I spent a year living in Moscow, and after my birthday piss-up one of my Russian friends flagged down the Russian equivalent of a mini-cab to go home.
On the way home a police car came along and rammed the vehicle off the road. The policemen then got out, dragged the driver out of the vehicle, and SHOT HIM DEAD there and then.
They then turned to my friend and kicked him into a coma and left him for dead on the roadside. Thankfully he eventually made a full recovery.
It seems that the driver had a load of drugs in the boot of his car and had got on the wrong side of the mafia a.k.a. the police, so they took him out and assumed my friend was his sidekick.
Not a very funny one, that, was it?
( Biffins Bridge, Fri 28 May 2004, 11:57, Reply)

Not my taxi..
... a few months ago I was walking through Heaton (in Newcastle) late at night and could see a car parked at a funny angle in the road up ahead. The lights were on and the engine running. As As I drew level with the car I noticed it was a taxi and that the driver was in the seat. Thinking he was probably waiting for his fair I thought I'd be cheeky and ask for a ride cos I was ages from my girlfriends house. I walked up to the car and looked through the window, only to be greeted by the sight of this fat, balding, spectacled dirty man being sucked off by an obviously drunk slapper....
Standing there open mouthed I backed away from the car only to be noticed by the cab driver who then proceeded to shout and make angry gestures at me - disturbing the woman in his lap who promptly threw up all over him!
I pointed...
I laughed...
I was nearly blinded by the sight of a taxi driver with puke in his pubes!
Never walking through heaton again in the middle of the night!!!
(Manatee Fondler, Fri 28 May 2004, 10:10, Reply)

Cabbie like Manuel from Fawlty Towers
I was leaving a nightclub in Leeds at about 3am just when they all start kicking everyone out and me, my friends and a girl I fancied were trying to find a cab along with the other 10,000 pissed up idiots.

Anyway, the girl I fancied (let's call her Emma) decided it wouldn't hurt to phone for one, despite the odds or success being slightly unrealistic. Miraculously, we get a cab, only it stops away from where we were waiting - we know it's our cab because the driver called Emma back on her mobile.

Anyway, Emma sprints up the street to grab the cab, and some bloke decides to high-kick here in the head for no reason other than perhaps she was queue-jumping the line. She falls to the ground like a sack of bricks and we run over to help her. I was too pissed to be confident about what I thought I saw, so made no accusations, I was more concerned about her. So she regains consciousness, and we get in the cab. My friends say to me "It was that fat bloke that did it". My anger surfaces. A plan comes together. I said to the taxi driver: "When I say go I want you to GO!!"

So I get out of the cab and yell at the fat twat: "You fat, woman beating fat fucker and did I mention you were FAT you CUNT!" As predicted, he tries to sprint towards me (slow cos he was fat) and I casually get back in the taxi and say to the driver "now you can GO".

He turns round to me and says "que?"
I say "GO, NOW"
He says "Que?!?!?"
"Fucking GO, GO , GOOOOOO!"
"Que..." etc.

anyway, befor he could say "Que" again, I got my nose broken (door was unlocked, my seatbelt was on, fucked up really badly...) I rip the entire inside of the door off in my attempt to close it with a fat bastard trying to get in the taxi. Taxi driver begins to comprehend and starts driving away. We leave fat bastard and most of the door behind. Taxi driver tells me to pay for it. I say "fuck off, you don't fucking speak English" and he took us home without saying another word. I got sympathy sex from Emma. Couldn't breathe through my nose for a week though.

Sorry for length.
(freshtonic, Thu 27 May 2004, 15:02, Reply)

Oh yeah, almost forgot
I was in a tax in Sydney a few years back, absolutely ratarsed. Cabbie had what I thought was an American accent.

"what part of America are you from?"

"I'm not from America, I'm from Canada!" came his pissed-off reply.

Not really thinking too hard, (I was only trying to be friendly), I told him that "I dunno, when you think about it, it's pretty much the same place"

Cabbie stops the cab and tells me to get out.

"Screw you, yankie!" I yell at the cab as it drives away...
( gronkpan @vomitinglarry.bsky.social, Thu 27 May 2004, 10:07, Reply)

just got into a black cab taxi
after a night on the town, drove 25 yards then some drunken knob throws a bag of rubbish at the windscreen, smashing it.

The driver started crying.

He drove off down a quiet street, got out, took the bag of rubbish off the bonnet, got back in and drove us home.

I felt really sorry for him.
( fishsticks, Thu 27 May 2004, 0:03, Reply)

Upon falling into a cab in Leicester
A mate and I after a night on copious amounts of lager fall into a cab somewhere in Leicester.

Cabbie - "Some birds gonna suck my old-bill later..."
Us - "What ?! Er...great mate"
Cabbie - "Do you wanna come along?"
Us - "Er......no thanks buddy"

The rest of the ride home was in complete silence. As if we're going to say yes !
(DrGonzo, Thu 27 May 2004, 12:18, Reply)

Lovely considerate taxi drivers...
Have had some wonderful interactions with the local cabbies through my job (paramedic).
Most recently I was sent to a pedestrian vs. car and arrived to find a taxi had hit a young lady (moderate to severe injuries). Told the taxi driver to remain on scene until police arrived as it’s offence to leave scene and he would need breath testing anyway. He very curtly replied that he had a “decent fare” waiting in the cab and baulked at my suggestion of getting another cab dispatched to take over his customers. So off he drives with me reporting him to the police. TV news that nite had lovely footage of three police cars doing a road block and then arresting the taxi driver. He also got locked up for the nite in the watch house and was sacked by the taxi firm the next day. There is a God…
Another local cabbie put a complaint in against a colleague of mine for parking his ambulance in a designated taxi bay outside a nite club. My colleague was attending a cardiac arrest and this was the only space available, but the cabby’s attitude was “Yeah, fine, but you don’t see me park in the ambulance bay at the hospital”. (WTF..?)
Lovely, lovely people…
(emadex thinks the world will end on, Thu 27 May 2004, 2:19, Reply)

the passenger's revenge....
I was tired and frustrated from drinking all that tequila and it was 3am (cab changeover time) in a stinking hot club, valentines day. Everyone in the world was out this night. I thought it would be a good idea to try and get a cab. In Kings Cross (Sydney) this can be kinda tricky. I manage to find one with his light on (means he's taking passengers) but the fare isn't a juicy one back to the backwoods from whence he came.

He rejects the fare, and I brainsnap. As he's stuck in traffic, I calmly climb onto the bonnet and jump up and down while screaming abuse. That'll teach him.

The punchline... I forgot my poor friends were all on some strong acid, and the last thing they need to see is me devolving into something from the jungle and trying to fight a whole taxi. Some still have flashbacks. Sorry guys.
(poolpartymcguyver, Thu 27 May 2004, 1:58, Reply)