I’ve lost count of the lasses and ladies who have gotten into the front passenger seat of the cab and immediately pulled the sun visor down and looked critically at themselves in the vanity mirror. But then despite having already spent hours painting and powdering at home they find fault and decide to try to apply extra paint and filler whilst on the taxi journey. But some wicked little voice in my head always seems to nag at me to plan the route to include every speed hump and pothole in town.
Then I am drawn by some strange magnetic force into hitting every manhole cover and drain and my brakes and throttle seem to take on a life of their own, braking and accelerating just as the delicate final touches of makeup are applied.
So if a lass walks into your party or pub with eyes looking like a panda or lips looking like the Joker from Batman she may just have gotten out of my taxi.