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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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Okay, so I got sick for a while and couldn't drive
cos me relexes were slowed down to a crawl an I could barely see through puffy, infected eyes. Oh, the stories I could tell about those pissing cabs.

1) There was this great fat arse wearing a white vest and a short pants, the car is piss dirty and stinks to high heaven. Bloke's got a beard all the way down to his gigantic gut. I get in, and the bloke turns on the AC and then puts his arm on the passenger's side seat next to him. So the AC is fanning under his arm and belching forth the awful fecking smell. It was a wonder I didn't barf, but I reached Edinburgh safe and sound.

2) Next cab I took was driven dy a hippie. This car was mdoerately clean, there was a car freshener inside, but the view was spoiled by these cheap flowers strewn all over the fecking place, and these fecking signs drawn by her kids all over the place, (do not smoke), (put on your seatbelt), etc. And the woman would just harp on about her fecking kids. I don't give a flying feck about fecking Natalie, now drive the fecking car! Phew.

3) The Crack Whore was next. This woman smoked and smoked and smoked. She had long ratty hair, and long nails, claws more like, and I would have staked 50 quid that she was a streetwalker. Soon there was so much smoke about you could barely see. Much relieved was I to be dropped off and to quit that tobacco hell.

4) Ah, the Prossie. This one did not smoke as much, but she was rail thin with implants and hair done up into a bun, and had to stop by several men's houses to speak to them. After a fashion of this, I arrived at work nearly an hour late. This bitch drove erratically, grappling with the steering wheel and braking too hard.

5) I got picked up by a fairly decent woman next day, or she would have been decent if she didn't look like Jabba the Fecking Hutt. Her car was fairly clean but had kid's toys all over it. Great, another mother. All the time she regaled me with tales of her darling daughters, while driving like a retard.

and that's my long and sordid tale. After number 5 I started driving again.
(, Thu 27 May 2004, 5:51, Reply)

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