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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.

once when i was on holiday we decided to get a cab to are hotel, because walking there was a nightmare! The roads were tiny and it was suicide to walk up them at night. Anyway the inocent looking taxi pulled up, we got in the man turns his dance music on FULL BLAST! And put his foot down! We went belting it all the way up this dodgy road at about 70 miles an hour! swerving corners, dodging people oncoming and parked cars! With loud heavy dance music pounding through our ears! Lets just say it was a rush!
*mum climbs out car* "i wonder what that track was? I quite liked it!" Forget that mother! worry more about the near death experience!
(, Fri 28 May 2004, 14:41, Reply)
drunken taxi journey
I once got a taxi in Cambridge back to my house. I was hideously pissed and out of money, so we went via a cash point -one next to the newmarket road round-about. When I had got my money, I turned around and noticed that the taxi had disapeared. I ran after the car that was exiting the carpark next to the cashpoint and onto the roundabout, where I held onto the wound-down window and asked him where the fuck he was going. The bloke in the driving seat looked very scared and drove off. It was only when I got back home that I realised that taxi's don't tend to be small white ford fiestas.
(, Fri 28 May 2004, 14:33, Reply)
My friend Stuart had his wallet stolen from his back pocket whilst giving a blowjob to some guy in a club toilet. He didn't find this out until he was in the cab home.

I know this isn't really about how bad cab drivers are but it's still a funny story!
(, Fri 28 May 2004, 14:28, Reply)
Not very pleasant.
The only funny cab story I know is when my mate couldn't pay so thought it was a great idea to do a runner. He didn't get very far before he was caught by the cabbie and a couple of his mates who he'd radioed. They then stabbed him 6 times with a screwdriver, leaving him in a bloody pile and pretty fvcked up.

The taxi fare was £4.50...

oh yeah, and a girl in my class in school didn't have fare one time so sucked off her taxi driver. She was 15.

Lovely place, Cardiff, innit.
(, Fri 28 May 2004, 14:23, Reply)
sheffield cab
Booked a cab because I had to go to the local tax office for a meeting with Mr I.L. Revenue. I was dressed up in my bestest suit, to look reliable and organised.

The driver turned up on time, and started chatting away.

As we turned out of my road, there was a traffic warden giving a parking ticket to an illegally parked car.

"I hate them fuckers. I ended up in court because of them." he said.

"Why?" I asked "Where had you parked?"

"No, I kicked the shit out of one"

"What had he done to you"

"It was a she..."

I started to feel uneasy now - thought I'd best be polite, if he's the sort of fellow who kicks shit out of parking wardens.

Then he picked up his mobile, and decided he had to ring home (this was before this was banned, not that it would have bothered this bloke). He didn't know how to work the speed dial, so had to dial the number manually, while driving, and while going through a red light.

Eventually he got through and someone picked up:

"Hello, who are you? What are you doing in my house?"

He proceeded to argue with them for several minutes about what they were doing in his house - he claimed it should be empty (so fuck knows why he was ringing it in the first place) and wanted to know my this person was answering his phone - refusing to accept he had dialled the wrong number.

He spent the rest of the journey on the phone, dialling his wife's mobile, to ask what their home phone number was.

We pulled up at the destination, I thanked god I was still in one piece, he looked at the mileometer (no meters in these cabs)

"That'll be £4 then mate" he said.

I started fumbling in my pockets for change.

"Do you work in there?" he said, pointing at the tax office.

"No, just visiting" I said, worried he hated tax inspectors as much as he hated traffic wardens.

"Right, it'll be £5 then"

I didn't argue - I was happy to escape. Needless to say I haven't used that company again...
(, Fri 28 May 2004, 14:20, Reply)
Not sure who was worse...
My ex-husband and I were in a dodgy minicab driving through Kennington and on our way back to Kent. The car started juddering and the driver pulled over saying that it needed a push to get it started again. Being slightly (well extremely) pissed we decided to do our good citizens bit - leaving all of our possessions in the car. After beginning to push, the car miraculously sped off into the night with my keys, glasses, money, railcard and everything of the hubbie's in there as well. Stuck in Kennington, husband storms off with the hump leaving me to find my way home to Kent, blind as a bat and penniless at 4am. Eventually found a police station who kindly arranged for a BR ticket for me and then when I finally got home had to break into my own house...then the bloke who came to change the locks turned out to be an ex-boyfriend who was revelling in my situation...ahh happy times....any guesses why he is an ex-husband anyone? Oh and I've never used a dodgy cab since - bastards!...I'm not even sure who I'm talking about here. Bitter? I should coco!
(, Fri 28 May 2004, 13:51, Reply)
I was trying to get home from the Harehills part of Leeds....
.... My cab arrives and I state the address. Rather than drive off, the guy remains parked in the middle of the road. After much protestation, he turns around slowly, handing me a piece of paper and simply says "read". So, slightly puzzled I read it, and try to hand it back, but the fella says "READ!!!" again, emphasising with his hands that he wants me to read the words out loud. By now I realise that this bloke probably doesn't speak much english, so wanting to get home, I indulge him and read out:

"To whom it may concern. I, Mr so and so of something cabs, state that the driver, Mr blah blah of x address is a competent driver and of sound personal reputation. I have known Mr blah blah for a considerable period of time, and he has my complete trust. However, if you should have any complaints with regard to Mr blah blah's conduct please contact me on the following number. Sincerely Mr so and so"

Upon hearing his employers name, Mr blah blah smiles lazily, takes back the paper and starts driving. By now I am pooing my pants, as I'm doing high speeds with some fella whose had so many complaints that he needs a 'sanity note' from his employer, and after a couple of minutes has sparked up the biggest aromatic ciggarette I'd seen since 6th form. The strange thing was, despite his apprently poor english, he knew exactly the best way to get to my house (without me repeating my address once) no messing, and we were there in no time. The real clincher though was just as we pull up to my place, he says (with a smirk) in the broadest leeds/bradford accent "alright mate, thats £8.50, god I'm knackered I've been on since 5, thanks alot pal see ya!". Bastard.
(, Fri 28 May 2004, 13:34, Reply)
Taxi hell
Most expensive: Lagos, where a taxi to the airport costs you 100 dollars, leaving you precious little for customs bribes.

Blatant rip-off: Japan, where the drivers will act lost, taking you on an expensive tour of the city whilst trying to find the largest hotel in Tokyo, which is, it turns out only 400 yards from where you started.

Most frightening: Nicosia, where the drivers only have two speeds: stop and 95mph.

Most frightening 2: Brazzaville, where your fare also includes the fee for your armed goon to ride shotgun.

Words you most dread: "Are you Engleesh? I am learning Engleesh! From the BBC World Serveeece!" (continues for three hours)

Stupidest: Reading. There's no place like home. If only they could find it.
(, Fri 28 May 2004, 12:29, Reply)
I had just arrived, a lone female in a strange city, and was being driven to my hotel.
He was trying to explain in very bad English, that there was a big problem with pickpockets, and they will quite often slash your bag straps to nick the bag. I just didn't understand him, so he pulled out his own (fucking huge) knife to demonstrate the technique.
When I finished spacking out quite severely I realised he was only trying to overcome the language barrier in the medium of mime, and wassn't actually going to butcher me limb from limb simply to steal the few meagre Krona I had on me. Bless him.
I ended up giving him quite a good tip. Like, don't pull a knife on customers again.
(, Fri 28 May 2004, 12:10, 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?
(, Fri 28 May 2004, 11:57, Reply)
.. serveral years ago, with the parents (the city stinks, and there are piles of what must be sulphur in the harbour) which are all the things you need for a bad day. Add into the mix the fact it is very hot, and half the people are trying to rob you, oh and not to forget parents who are desperatly trying to speak spanish (which was learnt form a cd rom) to people whos language is french it becomes a nightmare. now walking back from the town centre to the port, trying not to get robbed as we got lost walking through some slum a crappy old citroen pulls up next to us, saying 'x' rupees for taxi lift to port, no thank you, 5 minutes later 'x' rupees to port, this goes on for about an hour, each time the price gets less, and the chap sounds more intimidating. finally my dad, being a plonker at the time, give in and agrees to the ride, the car looked bad on the outside, inside it was worse, held together with duct tape, holes in the floor where you could see the road and no seatbelts to hold you in, which ment grabbing hold of anything to stay still, while not falling onto the road through the hole everytime he jerked the car brakeing or changing gear, or swerving to miss small children, wild animals and other cars on the road, not to mention he wanted to have my sister in his mates taxi as there wasn't enough room, which didn't happen and she squeezed into the back with us. anyway blocked out alot of the 10 minute journey, and got out relived to be surounded by sulpur and swearing never to get into any kind of taxi again, which i haven't. the moral being mini cabs in Cassaclanca are the worst in the world, held together by duct tape and driven by crazy sister abducting perverts. (sorry to any mini cab drivers from cassablanca who don't fit this description, if you exist!)
(, Fri 28 May 2004, 11:51, Reply)
i knew a very funny lad in glasgow who used to have a knack for torturing the cabbies, who are, as in most cities, almost all cunts. while he was on his way home pished, he would start chatting with the driver and then get onto the ssubject of how he was going to make chips when he got home. in a deep fat frier. obviously inebriated the cabbies would say 'ohh, you dont wanna do that mate'. he would reply with 'oh, it'll be fine, ill just stick them on then have a wee nap'. to which the cabbies would start getting really worried, trying to talk him out of having chips (which he had no intention of having). rather nasty like, but almost all cabbies are twats so i found it admirable.
(, Fri 28 May 2004, 11:51, Reply)
After a night out in London
A mate and I were trying to flag down a cab. Eventually a car pulled over, and in we jumped.
What we hadn't realised was that we were in an unlicensed cab.
About five minutes into the journey the driver spots something in his rear view mirror, starts visibly stressing, and turns to us and says, "listen guys, you're my mates, right? Just say you're my mates. My name's Dave, what are your names?"
After this puzzling exchange, we see a flashing blue light and the police pull him over. He's taken out of the car and me and my mate are left in the car wondering what's going on.
After about five minutes a policemen opens the door and with a very serious look on his face says, "OK, we're gonna hold this guy here for a few more minutes. I suggest you get out of the car and start running now."
And that was it, no further explanations, nothing. So we just ran, totally mystified and shit-scared that we'd been advised by a officer of the law to 'run for it'.
Edit - incidentally, I'm not from London and was only there for a night out. So that was my one and only experience of the joys of London mini-cabs.
(, Fri 28 May 2004, 11:47, Reply)
Not all cabdrivers are bastards....
Sometimes their passengers are too.... Had just had second knee reconstruction in three months (first one, then the other). Feeling sorry for myself. Got into cab after doing my shopping as was too leg-spazzed to go far - even on crutches. Driver was a chatty bloke, very friendly. It was summer, everyone was in shorts. Looking around I notice his left knee has a big scar on it, just like mine. Thinking 'ah, we have something in common' I ask him what happened to his leg. He goes quiet and a bit grumpy, then says 'motorbike'. And shuts right up after grunting at me. Only then do I notice that he is driving an automatic... with his left leg... and his right is a small withered stump flopping around on his seat.
(, Fri 28 May 2004, 11:29, Reply)
My fav black cab
I don't know if that guy is still around, he was quite creepy, but his cab was great. He had carpeted the floor, there were some magazines and flowers in the back as well.
(, Fri 28 May 2004, 11:23, Reply)
...But don't worry I don't mean taxi license...
When in Malaysia a couple of years ago and suffering a bad cold we were picked up by a taxi driver who took a shine to me. He kept suggesting Chinese medicine, but we managed to escape unscathed. 2 days later we were picked up by the same guy who proceded to grab my leg while shouting 'you look GOOD'. He then asked me to join him for a night of drug induced revalry at the local Liverpool FC bar (?) where he wanted us to chant for Everton, and then promised to take me to a techno club (at no point mentioning my companions in the back in this invatation). Then, while passing a police check he told us not to worry as he had only had a few beers, and that it wasn't a problem as he didn't have a license, for either being a taxi, or indeed for driving. Needless to say, we got out soon after.
(, Fri 28 May 2004, 10:43, Reply)
Mini cab in Cambridge
Chinese guy, looking well tense as three scruffy student hippies fall into his cab. He looks edgy, I tell him [read in authentic chinese accent] "it's ok, we've got the money". He proceeds to drive, explaining "no, it's not young people I worry about, it's old bastards! people about 40/50 who should know much better!". "Last week this guy had me drive him straight to his house and he just ran off! I saw him go in, and I wanted to go back and stick a petrol soaked rag in his letterbox and light it!"

"Yeah, I said, that's really rude!"

"Yes! I went back, and put it in but I didn't light it, because when I got to the door I could hear his children inside".

We paid him, plus tip. Fucking nutter.
(, Fri 28 May 2004, 10:40, 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!!!
(, Fri 28 May 2004, 10:10, Reply)
Living in Prague
Had a habit of getting cabs home as the sun was coming up following absinth fuelled binges.

One morning a cheeky fecker of a taxi driver tried to charge the semi conscious foreigner in his cab 800 kronkys as opposed to the usual 200 kronkys.

I told him to get fucked gave him 200, and got out of the cab. He followed me out with a night stick, shouting and trying to get to my wallet.Hit me once. Big mistake. 6 foot 1 skilled in kung fu ?

I broke his nose and knocked him down, he ran back to his cab - I followed. He locked himself in the cab, i put my fist through his side window and dragged him out. punched him a few times.. hard.. realised he was unconscious - cooled down.. went home and called a cab to take me to the hospital to get my hand fixed, broken bones and lots of stitches in my hand.


Afterwards I realised that a lot of cabbies there carry guns..
(, Fri 28 May 2004, 9:33, Reply)
My Bruv
My scabby brother's fave story (he's a non-B3tan, so I'll recount for him):
Having been to some celeb bash til the early hours, Steve and his mate rolled out into the night to find a taxi. A geezer rolls up in a what looks like a mini-cab and asks them where they want to go. Steve tells him and asks how much. Geezer says 'ooo about £30, but I'll take £25 up front'. So they pay, get in the back cos someone is already in the front passenger seat. The car rolls off and driver goes down some street, jumps out, makes an obvious drug deal and hops back in. They then set off in the vaguely right direction until suddenly matey pulls into a big tower-block housing estate, gets out and says 'wait there'. Ten minutes pass and the geezer in the passenger seat says 'dont look like hes coming back' and then he fucks off too. So Steve and mate get out and start walking. Realising theyre in a deeply dangerous neighbourhood they decide to go back to they car and 'borrow it' to drive somewhere safer. On returning and after closer inspection, they discover the ignition barrel has been ripped out and the car has been hotwired. At that point they ran.
There is a moral of this story somewhere ...
(, Fri 28 May 2004, 9:21, Reply)

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