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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)
Pages: Popular, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

Another one
I went to a fantastic Indian pub in Birmingham with a few cow-orkers and after a great night out a cab was ordered. My Indian friends also get in the cab and start chatting to the driver, we drop them off first as they live the nearest to the pub and I live about 20 miles away on the other side of the city. After dropping of the last guy the driver turns and asks me the way in Punjabi . Thats where we stumble upon a big problem, He can't speak English and I can't speak Punjabi. So the rest of the Journey is conducted by a very drunk English bloke waving his arms around for Left/Right/Straight on etc.
(, Thu 27 May 2004, 16:08, Reply)
Rookie mistake
About 7 years ago, while living in North London. About 2am, so the tube was closed, and me, my then-girlfriend and a mate of mine were getting shedded in my flat while waiting for a minicab from a local firm to go to a crappy club. It turns up half an hour late, by which time me and the girlf are asleep, but my mate says the cab'll be her shout so we sidle in and proceed to sleep on the back seat most of the way into London.

I wake up as we're approaching King's Cross, to the sound of my mate giving the driver the chummy "so what's the worst thing that's happened in your cab?"-style 20 questions routine. This continues to the club, where suddenly my mate throws the driver a fiver (the fare was £30), gets out and starts giving the driver shit through the window about his lack of punctuality and appalling BO before legging it down Charing X Road. The driver charges out after her. Meanwhile, I'm locked in the back of the cab with my still asleep girlfriend. He'd taken the keys with him, so we both had to climb out of the only partially-open sunroof.

So that was it, or so we thought. However, we get back to mine later that morning to find an alarmingly yellow human shit hanging out of the letterbox and dripping down the door.

Moral: if you're going to get a minicab and subsequently run off without paying, don't phone it to your actual address.
(, Thu 27 May 2004, 16:07, Reply)
Thought of another one...
After spilling out of a club me, my mate and 2 birds we knew got into a mini-cab to take us quite a long way. We hustled and got him down to £25 (a bargain) when we were on our way we were quizzing him about what his name was, why he drives a mini-cab, calling him an illegal immigrant etc... He was taking it all well, laughing and joking with us. When we were nearing our destination one of the girls with us (a copper) pulled out her warrant card & I.D. and the bloke shit an absolute brick and went completely quite. Needless to say he let us off the fare.
(, Thu 27 May 2004, 16:06, Reply)
I do also have to tell a story about a bus in china (but there is a taxi envolved)...
Ok, so we're going through the himalayas, from the yunnan province to the szechuan province on a bus. There is at least a 3km drop to one side of us. The bus needs to stop and reverse twice because a wheel has gone over the edge. This was before I got worried.

We stop for a meal etc, and as we get back on, I realise that the buses suspension is a makeshift jobby, done with bamboo. The driver's mate decides it will be really funny to chuck a spanner at the driver while he turns a corner. Bus loses two wheels over the edge, we all have to get out and help push it back onto the road. Locals are saying the equivalent of "dude, there's a 3km drop there".

Driver's head is bleeding. His mate can't drive. One of the Guilaos (foreign devils/white ghosts) asks in mandarin if he can drive instead. The (extremely racist) locals decide that Guilao can drive better.

Bleeding driver flashes a government symbol that shuts the rest of the bus up. I spent the rest of the ride saying to myself "ok, when the bus rolls down the cliff, I'll put this arm here, that leg there, should I relax my knees and elbows, or will that make me smash into the walls?"

Driver's mate then decides to interrupt my train of thought by throwing a book he is reading at the driver, who then decides to stop driving.

3 hours later, another driver turns up in a cab and drives us the next 20 minutes until the end of the journey. Should have walked (the entire fucking way). God bless the driver's mate (who we went out drinking with later, just to ensure he at least had a nasty hangover the next day)

I will never apologise about my length.
(, Thu 27 May 2004, 16:05, Reply)
That'll learn 'em...
Every time me and my mate get in a cab at the end of a night out, if the driver is an absolute chopper then we both sit there listening intently while he drivels on about some bollocks and pick our noses wiping the contents all over the headrests in front. We've been known to pick out some particularly big ones. Heh heh heh
(, Thu 27 May 2004, 15:58, Reply)
In poorer days...
Friend and I get a minicab for the 5 miles home, normally, £12-15. We'd previously agreed that £10 would be much more favourable so plead to cap'n cab that this is all we have and he reluctantly agrees..
On arrival I proceed to blurt out to my mate that I've only got a £20 note so can he give the man his money.

Cunningly denied his £2 premium the driver blows his top and threatens to call the police. I say "go on then, they'll be exceedingly interested to find out how you managed to do a 20 minute run in just 7 minutes".
I'm sure he uttered the arabic for twunt as he ordered us from his cab, sans two quid extra....
(, Thu 27 May 2004, 15:53, 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!
(, Thu 27 May 2004, 15:46, Reply)
Ok, It's not a taxi story so much as a shit joke that started as an urban legend in 2001
You probably got this one in UK too, but had to share it...

Guy gets into a taxi and finds a wallet. turns out to belong to the (assumed terrorist nationality) cabbie's friend who want's to reward the guy's honesty by giving him some advice:

"dont go into parramatta (read: essex) on new years eve."

"why mate, is there a bomb going to blow?"

"nah, it's a shithole."
(, Thu 27 May 2004, 15:43, Reply)
"No" is usually my prompt, and appropriate response, yet a friend of mine, Chris, decided he'd be daring, and take one of these mini-cab fanatics up on their offer.

Everything's fine, Chris and his girlfriend get out of the cab, and go to pay.
"Can I take your number mate" the driver asks.
"...What?" Chris replies
"Well, I was just thinking, I'll give you a ring if I'm in the area or something"
"...er...ok", and with that Chris sealed his doom.

This taxi driving tit then decided that he'd ring Chris EVERY night for about a month, sometimes just sighing, sometimes asking him where he was, and what he was up to.

Suffice to say, it all ended rather quite suddenly, when Chris finally got sick of it, and roped in all of our mates to relentlessly phone this barely comprehendable taxi twat, on the hour, every hour, for a few days.

There's nothing quite as funny as declaring someone an "arsecandle" and "fucknut" down the phone, especially when the response is simply "whaaa?".

And the moral of this tale? If a random bloke asks you if you want to get in his car, and pay him to drive you, despite him not being a taxi driver - just a normal bloke - look him straight in the eye, and kick him square in the jaffers.
(, Thu 27 May 2004, 15:18, Reply)
When I were at college
me and a bunch of mates went out on the waz, and ended up getting a taxi to Jimbo's house. Jimbo got the urge to puke big-time, but didn't want to have to pay the clean up fee, so somehow (I've no idea how) he managed to keep it in his cheeks for the whole journey. He looked like pob. The relief on his face was absolutely class when he could eventually get out and empty his gobfull of puke.

Unfortunately, he then spoiled my amazement at his self restraint by pissing in a letter box. The twunt now intends to be a Tory MP. I will soon be able to blackmail him with this and other stories, as live off the takings. muhahaha
(, Thu 27 May 2004, 15:14, Reply)
My friend got a taxi once and when he got out he was set upon by some youths, when they were finished he got back in the taxi and went to the hospital.
(, Thu 27 May 2004, 15:04, Reply)
The AU ball
At the Athletics Union ball a month or so ago the rest of the rugby team and I staggered outside in tuxes and the lot, dates in tow after the ball was finished.

Barging to the front of the queue like proper arse holes, we got a 15 seater mini-bus mini-cab type thing. This would have been all well and good....if there weren't 30 of us.

10 minutes later, 30 of us are in this mini bus, singing offensive songs barreling along back from Gosforth to a mate's house....at about 90 mph! Cabbie didn't see a roundabout and I swer he didn't brake when he went round it. I could also swear we were on 2 wheel for a moment!

The rest of the trip in deathly silence.

He got a massive tip though, we all put a quid in so he was well chuffed!

sorry about length
(, Thu 27 May 2004, 15:02, 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.
(, Thu 27 May 2004, 15:02, Reply)
I live in Malta,
so unless you drive or catch the 'late' bus home from the pubs (which leave at 1:30am latest), you have to get a taxi. In Paceville (the entertainment 'hub' of the island), there are two cab companies. Wembleys or Freephone.

My most bizarre experiences have been with Wembley. If you live in an out of the way area, like Tarxien or Mgarr you have to wait an average of about 20 minutes before enough people are going in your direction, then they fill up the cab or mini-van and bobs your sisters brother. Sometime in June last year I was waiting in one of these white vans which gradually filled up and got going. The driver turned to ask everyone where they wanted to go and we set off. No seat belts, at break-neck speed. Maltese roads being what they are you risk chafing your skull against the roof. I sat up front with the driver who started up a conversation with me. When he found out I was english he made sure he dropped me off last, and spent almost an hour trying to have a conversation with me about computer aviation simulators, about which I know fuck all. I was pissed, sorry Vince.

Last week got a cab home with Freephone. Waited in line with a bunch of Arab types. One of them was really pissed up and sat next to me. "Oh fuck," i thought, "He's going to puke" and sure enough, as the mini-van eased its way spasmodically forewards onto our potholed roads and jumped and bounced its way all the way up regional road, old mohammed started to groan. But then he put his hands to his mouth and nothing, no hurling! I was amazed at his self control. Anyway, when the spunt got out of the van he did a runner (you have to pay before you get it, so its not a big deal) thats when I discovered the sneaky bastard *had* been sick and just managed to do it in complete silence.
Stealth vomiting!
(, Thu 27 May 2004, 14:59, Reply)
Not a mini-cab as such
My company gets us cars into work or home late nights and early mornings, these are quite nice cars - the same ones they use to bring guests in for our TV programmes.

Had one regular driver who turned up once after having work done on the car by one of his mates who'd (accidently) completely disabled the dashboard. This meant he had no indicators, meters or anything. Didn't take long till he was pulled over for speeding.

The worst experience though was a bloke who picked me up from work very early one morning. The best way to describe him is like the barman in Men Behaving Badly: greasy, fat and wheasy. He was also extremely rascist and drove the car (an automatic) by repeatedly pushing the accelerator up and down making the car jerk violently every couple of seconds.

He decided to take a more scenic route back by driving through Richmond Park. Nice idea until we got to our exit and found the gates still locked.

Anyway he got sacked a week later
(, Thu 27 May 2004, 14:40, Reply)
Free ride
Getting a dodgy cab back to his flat my mate told him where to pull over... "just there next to the police station" whilst they were getting the cash together there was a knock on the window and a policman telling them to be on their way, he wanted a word with the driver... they obviously didn't pay anything.
(, Thu 27 May 2004, 14:35, Reply)
There's a cabbie round here who swears he's psychic...
You get in, you just want to get the ride, and the stench, over with but the bastard won't leave you alone.

"Think of a number between one and ten," is his usual starter. He then tells me it's 7. It's not. I usually pick Pi just to piss people like that off.

He swears he can tell you everything about you using his "gift". He hasn't got one. No one has. It's just a rather clumsy mix of cold and warm reading, just like you see on the telly when a "psychic" contacts someone "with a B, or is it a P, perhaps a G, could it be a D?" in their name.

The thing is, cold reading is my party trick. He nearly shit himself when I told him he used to be a teacher.

Fucking moron.
(, Thu 27 May 2004, 14:26, Reply)
Pimp Cabbie
In a northern city with work a few years back, me and a mate step into a cab outside our hotel and ask to be taken to a hostelry, wherein we could avail ourselves of a beverage or 15. Within 3 seconds or so of stepping inside said cab, the cabbie asks us thus : "Do you lads fancy a trip to the brass house?". Being good young men from fine families we had no idea what the giant hulking brutethe other side of the screen was talking about. Metal works? we wanted beer.

It turned out that brass house is scouse for brothel. We got the address, after checking in detail whether said cabbie was on commission, which he denied. Am glad to say we couldn't remember the address by the time we'd had enough alcohol to contemplate going there.

About 8 months later I was in same town again. With same lad as above, and two others. We get in hostelry bound cab. We regail our new companions who had never been to the city before with amusing brothel-cabbie anecdote, along with frustration that we couldn't remember the address.

Hulking cabbie chirps up: 'Aye it's Aigburth Avenue, mate'. For 'twas same pimp cabbie as before. How rare. After beers, I cannot say what happened for I am a gentleman of sorts, n all.
(, Thu 27 May 2004, 14:26, Reply)
Oscar Wilde Lives
My brother is in Exeter with his wife. They've come out of Exeter's greatest nightclub (Timepiece) and are hanging around waiting for a cab which she's ordered from Execabs or somesuch firm. A cab (from another firm) is parked up and my brother goes over and asks the driver if he's from Execabs.

"Doesn't bloody say Execabs on the side of the cab, does it?"

"It doesn't say 'I'm a stupid cock' either," says my brother.

Delighted with his rapier-like wit, they proceed to wait for their cab. Which never turns up and his wife then has to go and apologise to this other cab and ask if he can take them home. Which, rather amazingly, he does.
(, Thu 27 May 2004, 14:23, 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.
(, Thu 27 May 2004, 14:21, 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.
(, Thu 27 May 2004, 14:17, 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.

(, Thu 27 May 2004, 14:12, Reply)
Got a mini cab
from New Cross to my old flat in Lewisham.
Had to direct the driver every yard of the fecking way AND he tried to charge me £10 for the privelege.
Did a "drop me here mate" and legged it up an alley!
(, Thu 27 May 2004, 14:09, Reply)
I was in a cab once and the blinking driver wouldn't let me out of the damn cab until i paid. quite a predicament as i didn't want to pay him...we reached a stalemate and then i really started to get scared....so i paid up, got out and all was well....I'm an areshole
(, Thu 27 May 2004, 13:59, Reply)
mini cab drivers
I've plenty of stories about these mercenaries of the tarmac, however in general it's better that they drive and you keep your license. On one occasion after a night out on the piss, a couple of mates and I managed to get an unlicensed min-cab from outside the cinema on Ealing Broadway. We had about 10 miles in total to do and negotiated a price before we set off. The driver was an Italian fellow whose driving was untypical for a latino as he was quite sensible. Problem was that as we got closer to our destination he kept on putting the price up. We objected and said we had already negotiated a fixed price. In the end (and right outside my house) I lost my temper and went into a massive rant about unlicensed cab drivers and demanded that he show me his insurance documents before he got a penny out of me, the driver then made a show of rummaging in the glove box to find his documents which obviously did not exist. Then he gave us a sob story about being a student and that the cab controller would doc his wages if we didn't pay. I pointed out to him the hopelessness of his situation and that in law he didn't have a leg to stand on. He then threatened us with the police and being pissed we called his bluff and waited as he (pretended to) make the call. We waited for about 10 mins and in the end, knowing he was well and truly beaten, he got in his car and drove off. Cunt-hamster

EDIT: if you do this, then don't stop right outside your gaff as they may want revenge. On this occasion we were sensible enough not to approach the house and pretended to live about three doors up. Just in case.
(, Thu 27 May 2004, 13:40, Reply)
Banned from cab firms...
Not mini cabs as such but having tried for weeks to get a cab to turn up on time, I foolishly book three cab firms and ask a friend to take me to town. Long story short all four turn up on time and iI am know barred from ringing the cab firms!
(, Thu 27 May 2004, 13:39, Reply)
We booked a minicab transfer from our hotel in rhodes
when it turned up there was already 3 people in it, so the Cypriot forced our bags into the boot and laced them together with his tow rope to stop them falling our, he then preceded to do 110mph in 20 year old E class Mercedes through dirt tracks. On reflection I truly felt as if I'd partaken in a chase scene from the dukes of hazzards that day.
(, Thu 27 May 2004, 13:36, Reply)
is how it's spelled, for Christ sake, not F-A-I-R, although you could rack up a FARE going to the FAIR. aieeeeeeeeeeeee.

edit: that's the response I expect from an illiterate ass icon

hooo hooooo
(, Thu 27 May 2004, 13:31, Reply)
My cousin beat the shit out of a mini cab driver once
then him and his mates wrecked his car because the driver got shirty when they wasn't going to pay the fare.

edit : better now edit2: better now?

edit3: Good punnage with the name thing. Anyway I am not illiterate it was just a slip of the key, you see the fair has just left town but it seems not my head yet.

(, Thu 27 May 2004, 13:30, Reply)
Also from Camden Palace
So many of us we needed 2 cabs until pyscho skin-head man turned up with his people carrier. However, some mates had already got in a cab and were locked in despite their vociferous protests. Cue our nutter bundling us into his cab and trying to run the other one off the road and racing all the way to Elephant. Screaming in my face and 'owns that fucking club'
(, Thu 27 May 2004, 13:19, Reply)

This question is now closed.

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