Dung Beetle

A nice easy job picking up from the local hospital and ten miles up the road to Ulverston, or so I thought!

My fare was waiting in the foyer shoehorned into what must have been a specially strengthened jumbo size wheeled chair. I would guess that she would have been maybe between 28st (390lb) and 30st (402lbs) and had her right arm in plaster and stuck out at an extreme right angle.

She was with her mother who at maybe 4ft 10in and 6st (84lbs) was the complete opposite to her in every way.

I can’t wheel her declared the mother and looked at me expectantly, so I took a deep breath and started to shove as hard as I could on the back of the wheeled chair. At first, it would not budge and so I closed my eyes and gave it all I had and was rewarded with some movement. I opened my eyes when the victim began shouting at me and found that all I had managed to achieve was turning her on the spot three times. Mother pointed out that one of the wheels still had its brake on so I released that and prepared to set off again.

By this time, the ladies of the WRVS had evacuated the rest of the patients from the foyer and were comforting them with tea and biscuits.

 Off I set with the huge load squealing and shouting directions looking like a dung beetle pushing an elephant turd up an anthill.

When I finally reached the taxi with my Convoi Exceptionnel and I was pondering just how I would load her without any mechanical assistance, she popped up out of the chair like a whale breaching the ocean and shrieked “I can walk you know it’s my bloody arm that’s broken”

With that, she climbed into the front seat of the now lopsided groaning taxi.

I set of staggering back with the chair wondering why she waited for me to push her in the chair when she could walk and why I was daft enough to do it!  

Mother was sat very quiet in the back and daughter sat waiting to be belted up. This was never going to happen even if I could reach round her the belt would never have stretched the vast distance.

Next was the problem of releasing the handbrake which was hidden beneath some unknown part of the daughter’s anatomy, this was achieved with much embarrassed and apologetic fumbling and straining.

“I was ran over by a truck,” the daughter announced when we had set off, now being a sensitive sort of guy I didn’t follow my first instinct and ask her if the truck driver survived, but I couldn’t help but wonder.

Daughter had a loud shrill sort of voice that just didn’t seem to want to stop talking at me. After a mile or two mother quietly tried to interrupt her to tell me directions to the place they were going. This seemed to be a big mistake as daughter shrieked “can’t I bloody talk now you old cow” and this started a full scale argument between them for the next nine miles of pure hell.

Every time daughter shouted at mother, she turned round to face her in the back and in doing so punched me with the heavily plastered arm.

I was mentally exhausted and black and blue by I finally gratefully dropped them both off.

Some days I would rather be a dung beetle!      

Soap Opera

Now and again one of my fares will ask me if I had watched a reality TV show or one of the soap operas the previous night. Nine times out of ten I answer "no I don't watch much telly" and the fare will look at me as if I must be criminally insane or live in some strange other universe. But the plain and simple truth is that I just don't need to watch reality TV, reality plays out each and every day on the back seats of my cab. All the real life drama, comedy and tragedy you could dream of are unveiled by passengers telling me of their sometimes chaotic lives.

 The big difference being that instead of some attention seeking, money grabbing wannabe my reality show stars are real genuine local folks. And as for soaps, well some folks will give me the latest episode of their storyline each time I pick them up, sometimes the plot will be a bit dull but with others I just can’t wait for the next thrilling installment.

Take Saturday night for instance, a five mile trip turned into a whole series of roller coaster emotions, all played out on my all knowing back seat.

 I took no part in the performance; all the scenes starred just the one young starlet and her mobile phone. The first call she received seemed normal enough at first but soon degenerated into a full blown row with what I assumed was her partner. The accusations flew back and forth and voices were raised to a shout for a few minutes and then the phone was obviously slammed down on her. She looked at the phone for a minute obviously frustrated that she couldn't finish the verbal fight and then tried redial a few times. When she got no reply she let out a piercing frustrated scream and then burst into floods of tears. After a while the phone rang and she snatched it to her ear expectantly, but no it wasn't the kiss and make up call she was expecting but someone threatening her with violence in retaliation for some punch-up that she had been involved with the previous night. She seemed frightened and pleaded with the caller that wasn't her fault and that she didn't start it, and that she “didn't want no trouble.” After she had soft soaped her way out of a bashing she hung up only for the phone to ring yet again with another caller. This time it was my fare that was straight on the attack loudly accusing the caller of “grassing her up for doin that tart over” and threatening to “kick her head in.” After delivering a filthy tirade of swearing and abuse it was my fares turn to slam the phone down.

 We reached her destination and it was time for the closing credits, but the phone rang yet again and I couldn't help but notice that she smiled in anticipation of the next thrilling episode.

Granny Wars

Two grandmothers on mobility scooters had to be dragged apart after getting into a fight where they were "ramming each other like dodgems" in a supermarket.

The women were separated after they started trading blows in front of shoppers in an aisle of the Iceland store in Crawley, West Sussex.

They were prized apart after staff heard screams.

A store worker said: "It was shocking.

"Seeing these two old ladies going for each other like that was truly disturbing."

The shelf-stacker, who did not wish to be named, added: "They could have been seriously hurt - they were ramming each other like dodgems."

Cops were called to the scene after the warring pensioners - who were pals - fell out over money.

They arrested one of the pensioners, who has not been named, on suspicion of assaulting the other 78- year-old woman who suffered an injury to her arm. She was later taken to hospital.

The grand-daughter of one of them said: "The two of them met some months ago and this lady was always at grandma's house.

"They became really friendly but fell out massively over money."

It is not yet known whether charges will be brought.

It is not the first time mobility scooters have been used dangerously.

In Rugby, Warwickshire, the policy introduced a speeding clampdown on mobility scooters, which can reach a top speed of 8mph, after a series of collisions and near misses in the town centre.

Hot Date

It was 9 am and the two ladies who fell into the back of the cab laughing and giggling, surprised me when they told me their destination. "The crematorium quick as you can we don't want to be late for the kick off" they said sniggering. “It's a bit early for us to be going to a funeral” they told me and then asked me "do you think they will have had time to stoke the fire up yet?" "Oh so it's not someone you were very close to you then? “I asked. "No not really, we're only going because the bun fight is at the Lisdoonie Hotel, and they always put on a good spread" was the cheerful reply.

 After this there was a minute or two of what I took to be a reverent silence, maybe the sorrow of the loss was sinking in and they had just been putting on a brave face? 

 But no, just as we drove through the gates of the cemetery one gripped the others arm and with panic in her voice groaned loudly “hey I hope that the bar will be open this early.” Her friends face went pale and she said”Oh my god I hadn’t thought about that, I hope so too”

Branded

A report in the local paper tells us that a young man of 19 appeared in Furness magistrate’s court and pleaded guilty to carrying an offensive weapon. It also tells us TWICE that he hails from Egerton Court (pictured) which by any stretch of the imagination can't be mistaken for luxury penthouses.

 The report also gives us the information that he appeared in court wearing a tracksuit and trainers. The reporter might as well have said that the offender was a chav from a slum.

 If the guy was from one of our more leafy suburbs, would we have been told that he appeared wearing a suit, tie and shiny shoes, I think not somehow!

Nun

A cabbie is flagged down by a nun late one night.

She gets into the cab, and notices that the VERY handsome cab driver won’t stop staring at her.

She asks him why he is staring.

He replies:

“I have a question to ask you but I don’t want to offend you.”

She answers,

“My son, you cannot offend me. When you’re as old as I am and have been a nun as long as I have, you get a chance to see and hear just about everything. I’m sure that there’s nothing you could say or ask that I would find offensive.”

“Well, I’ve always had a fantasy to have a nun kiss me.”

She responds,” Well, let’s see what we can do about that: #1, you have to be single and #2, you must be Catholic.”

The cab driver is very excited and says,” Yes, I’m single and Catholic!”

“OK” the nun says. “Pull into the next alley.”

The nun fulfils his fantasy, with a kiss that would make a hooker blush.

But when they get back on the road, the cab driver starts crying.

“My dear child,” says the nun, “why are you crying?” “Forgive me but I’ve sinned. I lied and I must confess, I’m married and I’m Jewish.”

The nun says, “That’s OK My name is Kevin and I’m going to a Halloween party

Stella Versus Facecream

Husband and wife are shopping in Tesco's when the man picks up a crate of Stella and sticks it into the trolley

"What do you think you're doing?" asks the wife

"They're on offer, only £10 for 12 bottles", he says

"Put them back. We can't afford it," says the wife and they carry on shopping...

A few aisles later the woman picks up a £20 jar of face cream and sticks it into the trolley.

"What do you think you're doing?" asks the man,

"It's my face cream. It makes me look beautiful," she says

the man replies... "SO DOES TWELVE BOTTLES OF STELLA, AND IT'S HALF THE FLIPPING PRICE"

Competition for the Mail

Locals in the Furness area may like to take a look at a spoof send up of our very own local paper. Whilst our our esteemed local news sheet has the grand sounding title the “North West Evening Mail” locals know it simply as the “Evening Mail.” The impostor bills itself online as the “Barrow Evening Mail” But with stories such as this by Fridge “Barrow Town Hall to Move”

"Yes, it is true(ish) that Barrow Town Hall is relocating. In a bid to save money, our glorious leaders have voted to sell the present Town Hall and buy a row of houses. The vote was taken in controversy as the proposee put the opposition on the back foot by bringing in his miniature poodle that had just had its coat trimmed into the style of a young Hayley Mills. While the poodle was overly ‘aahhhh’ed at and vigorously patted, the Chairman called the show of hands. The opposition did put in a formal complaint, but the Chairman dismissed it on the fact that they all acted like ‘a pack of Southern softies’.

"The decision on where to buy the houses has not yet been taken, however they are proposing to sell the Town Hall to a developer. We phoned around to a few known interested parties and asked their plans if they were the successful bidder. We had a range of replies from turning it into a large Haunted House attraction to knocking it down and building a 400ft Elvis sitting on the toilet."

"The Chairman stated, 'What ever happens with the Town Hall, we have the right to veto any building so you can be sure it will be tasteful, modern and probably pink.' He went onto say ‘we like pink, it compliments our eyes.'"

Mmm I'm sure the new editor will be very impressed and seek out these young pretenders and either sue them or employ them eh!

Horny Women

What is it nowadays with women and car horns? The slightest indiscretion "real or imagined" from another driver, be they male or female and it's an outraged long loud blast on the horn.
Some seem to regard it as some sort of weapon which will remove all obstacles and annoyances from their path.
The worst culprits and by far the most annoying are the small orange skinned bottle blonde's driving oversize 4x4s, who are in a rush to get to the beauty salon. Most blokes would never use their horns like this, they know that theirs always a chance that some big hairy trucker may take offence and decide to relocate the horn somewhere less comfortable. But the growing band of female honkers seem to think that somehow their being members of the fairer sex will protect them from road rage. It may work with chivalrous softies like me but as we all know not everybody's like me. It only takes a blast on the horn directed at someone who has been on a diet of super strength steroids and it could be your last toot.

Drivers Nightmare?

Two women threatened to cry rape unless a Luton taxi driver handed over his takings, a court has heard.
Carlie Clark, 19, and Selina Dunning were convicted of robbing taxi driver Muhummed Laqib after he picked them up in Welwyn Garden City, Herts.
The Driver, who works for Anglia cars, told jurors how Dunning warned him: "Whatever your takings are tonight you are going to give them to me or I am going to make a noise you raped me."
When Mr Laqib replied "Go on then", Clark, who was sitting in the back of the cab, tried to strangle him with a belt, while Dunning went through his pockets.
But the taxi driver of seven years managed to get free, grabbed his takings, and ran up the road and after being further attacked and chased by both girls managed to struggle free.

Dancers and Sad Sacks

Well the local parade season has started with our neighbours in Dalton enjoying a sunny Saturday for their annual bash. As usual the main streets were blocked and as usual we had folks who rang up wanting picking up from the blocked of areas, you would have thought that they would have learned by now wouldn't you. Most of the fares I had going up there were members of the dance troupes who hold a competition after the parade. Most of the dancers are young girls who just do it for fun, but the mothers take it very seriously. You wouldn't believe the amount of backbiting and catty remarks I overhear from the mums about their opposition, and I have been told of arguments which have ended up in hair pulling eye, scratching cat fights. Apart from the poor kids caught in the middle of this open warfare the ones I feel the most sorry for are the husbands and partners who are dragged, sometimes unwillingly along. You can spot the poor downtrodden sad sacks a mile away carrying their canvas deckchairs. They tend to wear three quarter pants and a football shirt in the colours of the team that they would be watching if only the football season hadn't just ended. Come on guys, don't do it get a hobby fishing, darts, hang gliding, drinking beer anything must be better than putting yourself through this torture!

Fluoroman

What is it with some guys when you give them a fluorescent jacket and a hard hat, why do they suddenly think that they have the power to shut roads and direct traffic in directions that drivers don't want to go? I was driving up Barrow's High St today and as I reached the junction with Rawlinson St, when out jumps fluorescent man and places two cones across the road to block the way. Why I don't know, nobody seemed to be doing owt "maybe he wanted a site meeting with the rest of the fluorescent squad to decide whether they were having pies or buns from Diggles that day" I drove up to the cones and fluoroman starts to gesticulate wildly and shout in a broad Penrith dialect that I should turn right. Of course him being from the wild north of Cumbria, and a stranger to Barrow he wouldn't know that he was trying to direct me down a one way street would he! I gave him my best smile and waved at him nicely as I drove over his cone and on to the junction, the six cars behind me followed my example, leaving fluoroman dancing with rage.
Later on in the morning I had driven halfway down one of Barrows narrower terrace streets when a car turned in from the bottom, as there was no room for both of us to pass I stopped and waited for him to reverse the few yards back so we could pass. But oh no not this character he drove straight up to my front bumper and arrogantly waved at me to reverse. When I didn't he leaned out his window waving me back and shouting "go back go back". A couple who were walking past looked at him in amazement and said to me "what a cheeky bugger" Now this could have led to the classic Mexican standoff with both of us refusing to move, but I was on my way to a job and this was losing me money. And so after a few choice words in his direction I very slowly reversed back. But the shock was that this wasn't as you might expect the arrogant behavior of a local boy racer, but one of our well known local town hall council officials.

Not Aloud

You have got to wonder about what goes on in some folks minds , why would you put a sign like this in your house window? and if you really had to wouldn't you spell it right? And who the heck is Alice, is she really a dog?

Legal Vultures

I get used to being told all about folks illnesses and what operations and treatments they have had, and some fares even go so far as to ask for my opinion on their medical problems. I as always tell them that I don't know and that"I wanted to be a doctor but just never had the patients" I think that maybe it's a case of a problem shared is a problem halved. But this last week I have picked two different fares up who were each going to see their solicitor about marital problems and divorce, both of these folk I had never met before in my life and yet both of them within half a mile of picking them up were telling me all the personal details and the reasons for the intended divorce. Both of them seemed to be upset about what the former partner had supposedly told their solicitor about the reason for the breakup and telling me they were going to tell the solicitor all about the nasty habits the former partner had, whether this was picking their noses or biting their toenails in bed I don't know, but is it worth the muckraking, what does it gain? I told both of them I know nothing about the law but that they were just the sort of clients that solicitors love, the more they disagree and complicate things the bigger the bill gets.

Catty

Early this morning I picked up three young lasses from a party, which must have been going on all night. Before they got in the cab they were saying affectionate farewells to two other girls, all hugs and smiles. But the moment they got into the cab they started with comments like "what a mess Sally looked and Tina's put loads of weight on and did you see those ugly guys they were with".
This went on until I dropped one of them off, and then "yes you've guessed it"the two left started pulling the one that had left to pieces. Do all women do this I wonder? I wish I could have taped them and then played it back to their so called friends.