Pardon

Today was one of the very few occasions when I found myself lost for words, I usually have no problems understanding just about any nationality, but today the two lasses who got into the back of the cab might as well have been speaking broad Martian. In the end, they had to point to where they wanted to go. They started to talk to each other and it dawned on me that they were actually Irish, I’m usually Ok with the Irish brogue but this dialect was one I had never heard before. Still we had a laugh and got there in the end, but this reminds me of the drunken lady I picked up a while back one rainy day.

She was so drunk that she could not speak at all and she just waved her hands in the direction that she wanted to go. When we eventually got to her house she wasn’t capable of counting the fare so she just threw her bag at me to get the cash out for myself. Next comes the bit I was worried about, there was no way she could walk and I didn’t fancy carrying her rather large bulk into her house, you never know what you may be accused of later. After banging on a few neighbours doors, I managed to get some folk who knew her and her drunken habits to help her in. If this is the state she gets in the middle of the afternoon I wouldn’t like to see her after a heavy night out!

Black Eye Friday

Way up here in this part of the North of England, we tend to call the last Friday before Christmas “Black Eye Friday.”
 It's the day most people finish work for the Christmas holidays and they tend to finish work early about lunch time and they then head straight down to the pub for a long boozy session.
 I find it amusing when it gets to about four o'clock in the afternoon I then start to pick up some of the less hardened boozers when they have had enough and want to go home.  Lots of them are then telling me what a good night they have had; they are convinced that because it's dark that it must be very very late at night. I never tell them any different and just drive them home.
 Once a year drunks I call them the very worst kind of drinker because they just aren't used to it, give me a seasoned drinker anytime.  They take ages to come out of the pub shaking hands, hugging everyone in sight, and then going back into the pub several times for yet more long emotional farewells. Then once you get them into the taxi, the struggle is then to get them out of the taxi at the other end, because you are, their new very best friend in the whole wide world and they want to tell you their life story many times very very slowly and emotionally. Then its handshakes and if I’m very unlucky big bear hugs, but of, course none of my new found best friends ever recognise me ever again.
Still it's all good sport, Merry Christmas and a happy new year.

Car Hunting

I went on a hunt the car mission this morning, about the third in the last month or two.
 I had picked a guy up who had been out drinking till the wee small early hours and now he had decided it was time to pick the car up. As with the rest he was full of confidence that it was just a straightforward taxi ride to the car and then driving it back home, and just like the others his face fell a country mile when the car was not where he thought it was. So it was a blank expression for a minute or two then he exclaims “I know" and directs me to another pub car park two miles away, but of course the same thing happens there also. He gets increasingly panicked as we try another two places where he thinks he may have left his car. 
But at the last place we try and with £12.00 on the meter there is his car, great big smiles from him until he puts his hand in his pocket for the keys.  "Dohh! "

Nervous Tick

I was watching a TV programme called Terrets camp and it brought to mind an incident which happened a few summer's ago.

 It was a Saturday lunch time and I had picked up from the vast local gas terminal which was under construction, the male fare was a contractor from Newcastle, he was a daunting character, huge with a shaved head and lots of tattoos.

He asked to be taken to a pub in town and then on the way started to ask questions about the massage parlour which is near the pub.

He must have had some form of nervous tick when he got a bit excited; he dropped his head to his left shoulder and grunted loudly like a pig. I was startled but tried to just carry on just as normal as possible.

As we got nearer to town he asked more questions about the massage parlour and then squealed and grunted even louder.

 He said he was going to visit the massage parlour after a few beers. I wonder what the girls in the massage parlour made of him, I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall for that visit!

Walk Of Shame

Around here, emerging from the place where you have spent a night of drunken passion is usually known by the local young people as the "WALK OF SHAME".

 I have come across this countless times picking many a red faced lady up in the taxi who is still dressed in her night be fore’s glamorous outfit.

But I had never come across one quite like this Saturday mornings walk of shame, nautical style.

The call was to the dockside way out down in the docks far away off the beaten track to a place most locals would never visit.  The place was guarded by a lift up barrier and a security guard on 24 hour duty, the guard when I opened my window to ask about a passenger just laughed and mumbled something into his radio.

Shortly after a smirking guy in bright orange overalls got in the taxi with me and said in broken English "to ship" and directed me to the waterside where a Cypriot registered ship was tied alongside. He asked me to wait and then boarded the huge ship and went below. Several of the crew were on deck and I watched as they laughed and joked pointing below and at my taxi. All was explained when a young woman walked out onto deck blinking and shivering into the freezing daylight.

 She wore a short skirt and a cropped top showing her bare midriff and definitely not the sort of shoes for walking the plank. She had to walk the full length of the ship and then totter across a rickety looking gangplank onto the dockside and then across the dock with its dirty water filled potholes before finally making the sanctuary of my taxi.. By this time, every porthole seemed to have a laughing or smirking crew member looking out watching the long walk of shame.

"Where the hell are we," she asked looking round baffled at the barren industrial landscape, I explained and then we reached the barrier with the security guy and again he couldn't stop himself from laughing as he let us out.

"Bloody hell I woke up with a hangover, the floor was moving and everyone was speaking a foreign language. I thought I'd been kidnapped,” she told me as I drove her the five miles home. 

I blame the alcohol myself; still she was lucky I noticed that the ship was heading out to sea later in the day, so she could have ended up anywhere. 

New Year New Revenge.

Instead of getting involved in the mayhem of New Years Eve I opted for an early start on New Years Day. This gives good opportunity's for payback for all the Peter Kay taxi driver sketches that groups of giggling drunks always try to recreate in the back of the cab. It really does get a bit boring by the time you get to the hundredth time of "busy tonight mate” and "what time you on till” that Peter Kay has a lot to answer for.
 But the tables are turned early next morning when the fares are a bit worse for wear after a full nights partying. Nothing too harsh you understand, just a bit of gentle mickey taking.
 Such as looking back at the hung-over wreck in the back and saying” we’d better get you back to the crypt before the sun comes up eh!" Or to the fella wearing the brightly coloured frilly shirt, "we'd better get you home before your mother misses her blouse.
 Or the useful advice given to the young lass who looked as if she had been dragged through a hedge backwards “I’d stay away from mirrors for a few days if I was you."
 One confused staggerer who was having trouble remembering where he lived and muttered "over the hill and round the bend" to which I replied "yes I know you are but where do you live,”
 But even I had to refrain from any cruel humour with my first fare of the day. This was from the crowded casualty department of Furness General hospital were he had been all night. It seems that he had a disagreement with a lass who promptly settled the matter by taking her shoe off and embedding the stiletto heel in his head several times, ouch.

Vodka Day

Today (Sunday) had a strange vodka theme running right through it.
One of the first fares was sporting the most swollen most multi-coloured bruised face I have ever seen and without me even asking him he tells me the tale of him being stabbed in the face by "a friend" 
"Aye we had both been on the VODKA" he said by way of explanation and then asked me to take him to a shop who would sell him a bottle of VODKA at 9am on a Sunday morning. The VODKA he told me was a sweetener for his alcoholic girlfriend who he had fallen out with after drinking too much VODKA.
Lots of supermarket pickups after that with people starting to get their Christmas booze supplies in including lots of them with bottles of this weeks special offer on VODKA.
Later one fare was walking away from the taxi when I heard the sound of breaking glass my fares bottle of VODKA had come right through the bottom of her plastic bag. She took this rather badly and for a respectable looking middle aged lady she sure knew some swear words. But luckily for me she hired me again to take her back to the shop to replace the bottle of VODKA with a new one.
Later I was taking  a young lass to a pub she was going out for the afternoon and she told me that she had been out the night before and instead of paying high pub prices for her drinks she had hidden a bottle of VODKA in her bag.
The last job of the day and again it was someone going out to the pub for the evening and the lass was on the phone to her mates who were already in the pub waiting for her. "Can you get me a drink in" she asked them  and when they agreed she said "aye make it a double VODKA and coke".
On the way home I noticed that the Town Hall flag was flying but I was too far away to see which flag it was I wouldn't have been at all surprised to see that it was a Smirnoff flag flying because we sure contribute to the profits of the VODKA trade round here.

 

Halloween weekend chaos

Tonight started out as a very busy night and continued that way well into the early hours. The difference being is that after 11pm you deal with a different class of human being. so tonight I witnessed the following:

• Numerous fights all over the town usually by young sad pathetic knob rotting low life scum of the earth chavs who have half a pint of luke warm lager and think they can take on the world.

• At least 4 cars driving with a combination of no lights, swearing all over the road, driving at 10mph in a 30 zone and one of them coming down a one way street the wrong way with no lights on at all.

• A police car that pulled out in front of me giving no indication at all and then he proceeded to raise his hand whilst in his vehicle as to say STOP and this was after he pulled out on me and did a U turn.

• Loads of drunk people that can't seem to grasp the context of road safety and just walk out in front of you regardless of what's coming towards them

• I also saw the aftermath of 3 accidents, cars with windows smashed, no front wheel and no front end

• Another Police vehicle that had driven down a pedestrianised area (Dalton Road) and failed to stop at the Jcn of Buccleuch street as I was driving past and if I hadn't had slammed the brakes on he would have gone straight into the side of me.

Thats quite a lot for one night but I get the impression that the Police should certainly abide by the rules of the road if the rest of us have to and there was no sirens or blue lights illuminated so it doesn't give them any more right than a normal driver.

I know the Police are overstretched as they couldn't be everywhere and with so much going on in the town I expect there would have been more incidents as the night progresses

Why cant people learn that its not big and its not clever to drink and drive or to start fighting and acting like idiots under the influence of drink. They should be able to go out and enjoy themselves, know their limit and go home safely.

No wonder a lot of people who are sensible don't like going into town at night and from a Taxi Drivers point of view we are the ones doing the job of the police by getting them off the streets and taking them home. That's if they remember where they live or have the means to pay the fare,.

Drunken Woman

Its not that often I get out on the road these days as a taxi driver but when I do I`m always looking for something interesting.

Last night I picked 3 women up that had been to a party. It was a family party, there was mother, daughter and daughters daughter and most people can go out and have a good time and go home happy but its not always the case as there is always one who cannot handle their drink.

The middle aged woman in tha back of the car sandwiched between the other two was extremely abusive verbally to both the other passengers. Now the journey meant 3 different people being dropped off at 3 different addresses and I was just hoping the drunken woman would not be the last in case she couldnt pay the fare.

After having to listen to a torrent of four letter words and abuse from this woman directed at the other two I was glad to get to my first drop off address where one woman got out of the car followed by the abusive woman who then started shouting at the top of her voice in the street waking up residents. She was soon shoved back in the car and I carried on my journey. I had only got about 100 yards up the road when they started fighting in the back of the car.

It was at this point I stopped the car and told them both to get out. The drunken one fell out and was all over the place. the other one was very apologetic and paid the fare and so I went on my way.

What I cant understand is why people have to have stupid arguments, get aggressive and not be in control of themselves and its usually the women.

Alcohol enhances your mood so if you go out in a good mood you should in theory go home in a good mood. Unfortunatly it works the other way as well so if you go out looking for trouble then the chances are that you will find it.

Its all part of the job description these days and my main concern is for the safety of myself and other passengers as well as other road users if the vehicle is moving so by getting them out the car I think I did the right thing.

Drunk Driver

Last Night I was taking a fare to nearby Ulverston when we came acorss a car weaving all over the road and mounting the pavements. I decided to follow this car whilst I had my passengers on board who didnt seem to mid as I struck a deal with them over the fare, I called the police whilst following the drunk driver who seemed to be lost and kept doubling back on himself until he made a wrong turning at the local cemetery and drive into a wall.

It was at this point that I went bumper to bumper with him to stop him from moving, jumped out and grabbed his car keys. The police turned up literally seconds later. The man in his early 50s could hardly speak and was incapable of taking a brethalyser test.

At this point I realised that I had done my bit for society and got a drunk driver off the road but then got a lecture off the police saying that I should not play the part of a hero and should not put myself in danger. I can see the officers point now but at the time you dont think of this sort of thing and I wasnt on my won. I did have 2 passengers on board a male and female.

Anyway, bottom line is, a drunk driver taken off the road afetr I witnessed him narrowly miss a bus and 2 pedestrians. To me its a job well done and if I see the same again then I would do the same again.

Sorry but I've no time for drink drivers

Under the influence....

This week I picked up two young girls aged around 20 maybe 22 years old and they were chatting amongst themselves and the usual girly conversation was about parties they had been to, and then one of the girls said to the other girl , and I quote,

"Your Dad was lucky he didnt get caught drink driving when he came back up the motorway".

Her mates reply was "I was sh**ting myself as he was all over the three lanes at 80 miles per hour."

Did you know he was drunk? came the response from the first girl.

Second girl replies. "Yeah but we had to get back home and didnt want to leave the car overnight"




Some people seem to think that it is socially acceptable to drink and drive, not only putting their own lives at risk but also other people as well. As for the girl who travelled in the car with her drunken dad behind the wheel then I have no sympathy. They are both as bad as each other. Her for knowingly allowing herself to be put in this danger and him for being a complete idiot.

Lets face it, what sort of decent father would put his daughters life at risk allowing them to be carried in a vehicle where the driver is drunk.

I was going to do what I normally do and open my big mouth and tell them what I thought of them but on this occasion I just kept my mouth shut and didnt say a word.

Just as the girls were about to pay the fare and get out the car one of them said to me, "You didnt hear that conversation about my dad did you?". I just shook my head and ignored her. It wasnt even worth me having a go at her about it as experience says that people like that never listen and never learn.

No Food cos I said so...

Last night I picked up two girls from the local Chinese takeaway. One of them had food which was not wrapped up and I refused to take her unless she wrapped it up. I do have a sign saying no food and no drink to be carried open or consumed in the car but no one seems to take any notice.

She asked me why I wouldn't allow food in the car and I explained that if I pulled up quick due to some idiot stepping out in front of me then I would probably end up with curry all down the back of my neck. She insisted that she wouldn't spill it but I`ve heard it all before and stood my ground. She did eventually wrap it up but what annoys me is that if I was to do it in their car then they wouldnt like it. - No respect for property thats not their own.

On a serious note, if I was to have an accident and the food got spilt due to the accident and a passenger got scalded off it then would my insurance pay out. I doubt it. So there's another reason not to have food open in the car.

Mobile Cloakroom

It was a busy weekend just gone and two young ladies I picked up from one town centre pub wanted to go to another. The thing is that one of the young ladies had a jacket and she didn't want to take it in every pub with her and had the cheek to ask me to take it and drop it off at a house on walney for her tomorrow. I refused as I am not responsible for other peoples property, I am not a mobile cloakroom or is that slowly becoming part of the taxi drivers job description. Bloody cheek of it.

I got the impression that she just expected me to drop it off for her free of charge the next day but she was that drunk I doubt that she would even remember where she left her jacket when she takes it off in a pub later on in the night

X-FACTOR

Lately Saturday nights have been turning out to be a little bit on the quiet side, so what’s going on? Is it the so called credit crunch or even as some believe the start of a full blown recession. Well I don't think so myself I put the blame fairly and squarely on ITV. They are stealing the peak Saturday night trade away from the pubs and clubs and more importantly from the taxi trade. Saturday night from 8pm until 11pm is dominated by that popular cult TV show the X-Factor. Why I don't know because I don't watch it, but on Saturday night it dominated the conversation of the fares I picked up, some of whom were actually going to X-Factor parties. What that involves, I don't have a clue but it sure seems popular. Even worse news was told to me by one fan that was dashing between two x-factor parties; apparently the series lasts right up until near Christmas. Why can't these TV companies be made to show this stuff during the week instead of wrecking the whole country’s night time economy?

One interesting snippet that I did get told on Saturday night from a reliable source fascinated me no end. The new club which is due to open shortly, CLUB-M has been fitted with a new entrance solely for the use of the local emergency services. This I am told is so paramedics can attend to injured or ill folk and cops can remove troublemakers all without going through the crowded club. But the best bit is that the club has actually got its own padded cells to detain folk and prevent them from injuring themselves or others. The polite name they tell me is the detention or holding area. But a cell is a cell to me and I wonder is it legal, can they actually detain someone against their will? Would it not be false imprisonment, is it a step too far?

Why Me?

I’m beginning to wonder if it's just me, or is it some sort of conspiracy that I end up with the strangest jobs. Today for example I was asked to do a cigarette run, which in itself isn't all that unusual, quite a few housebound nicotine addicts ask us to buy fags for them and then deliver them. 

But when I arrived at the house which had asked for ten coffin nails today I was greeted by a woman waving a bunch of keys out of the open window. I was thrown the keys and asked to let myself in, which I did. The ould lass grabbed her precious cancer causers and started to rip into the packaging seeming to forget that I was there. It was only after she had lit one and greedily puffed one or two deep drags of nicotine that she remembered why I was there. Whilst blowing clouds of noxious smoke toward me she announced "I ain't got any money you'll have to come back in the morning." "Great I thought robbed again” as you might guess I don't smoke, so nine fags weren't a lot of use to me, so I put it down to yet another bad experience and left. Nobody was more surprised than me when she rang the office next day and asked me to go over to be paid for the fags and fare. But when I got there and again was passed the keys out the window, as I suspected, there was a catch. She handed me a £20 note and asked me to visit the local grog shop and get her some booze. I felt like some kind of secret alcoholic as I walked out of the shop at 11 am with three cans of the strongest cheapest lager known to man.

 But the surprises didn't end there; when I handed over the loony-juice to the cantankerous granny she actually paid me in full and added a generous tip.

Hard Life

For the last week or so I have been doing an occasional job transporting Russian sailors to and from the airport.

 The lucky ones were going home on leave from coasters carrying cargo into Barrow docks. Most are nice enough guys, but only speak as much English as I do Russian, and so the conversation is a bit limited. The one universally known word among them is "smoke," I have never known a Russian who doesn't smoke and so when I turn into the first service station on route and say the magic word it always brings on a big smile and" OK da." The replacement sailors I take to join the ships always look a bit glum and when I picked up one who spoke a fair bit of English, I learnt why.

I like a lot of folk had the false notion that these seafarers had the life of riley, seeing the world and meeting a new girl in every port. But no apparently I couldn't have been more wrong, he told me that most sign up for a six month contract and when they join the rest of the small crew on the vessel, that's it for the full six months they just never leave the ship. All of these vessels are registered under flags of convenience and so the minimum wage and health and safety rules just don't apply to these poor guys.

Since it is the first time inland in the UK for most of them I like to try and show them round our area if I get the chance. As well as many other local delights they get pointed out Dalton Wildlife Park and our spectacular Furness Abbey.

When I explained to the Russian sailor who spoke some English that the huge DDH shed was where nuclear submarines were built he pointed out that a few years back I would have been called a traitor and he would have been jailed as a spy.

On Friday night the Russian I collected from his ship was happy be going home but as it was 1: am and pitch black I wasn't able to point out our local landmarks. But as compensation I decided to drive him out of town by going past our local nightclubs and bars. As soon as we turned towards Barrow’s infamous Caza strip his mouth dropped open in amazement as he was confronted with the sight of hundreds of scantily clad young lasses. Two or three were lying on the pavement, legs akimbo and a few were happily vomiting the night away.

 A bit further up the street police struggled to break up a fight and the back doors of the police van were flung open ready to transport that nights bed and breakfast guests.

The sailor could speak a little English and he asked if Barrow was a big city and what was the population. When I told him “maybe sixty thousand” he laughed and replied “da and maybe ten thousand drunks, yes”

Parting Gift

Sunday morning and my disheveled looking fare come out of a town centre house with a smirk on his face. "Heck she was ugly, but I was drunk" he said as he checked himself out in the mirror. "Well I guess that we all make mistakes" I replied. "Yes but she was lucky to get me, I bet I'm the best looking guy she has ever had" he crowed.

 He was going the few miles to neighboring Askam and by the time we had got a mile up the road I was beginning to tire of his constant put down of his last nights conquest and his over the top conceit. As we passed Furness General Hospital a truly evil plan entered my head. Scratching my head and looking deep in thought I muttered "I know that house I picked you up from, I've picked up there a few times." He paused from studying his reflection and slowly took the bait "Oh yes where did you take her then" he asked trying not to appear too interested. I rubbed my chin as if deep in thought and after a long pause announced "That's it! I know she went to the Birchwood clinic"

 We drove on in silence for a mile or two as he thought about it and then he asked "so where is the Birchwood clinic then." "It's in the hospital grounds" I told him and then put on my best worried looking expression. It was just before we pulled up outside his house that he finally found the courage to croakily ask “what do they do at the Birchwood clinic then?"

 I paused for effect and then solemnly told him "it's the new sexual health clinic" and then slyly watched as he thought about it and then slowly made the implied connection. He left the cab looking deep in thought, with his hands thrust deep in his pockets as if checking on something.

The Charmer

Early on Sunday morning and one of my first fares was a young lass who looked like she had been fighting for ten rounds in the boxing ring. If you don't ask any questions you don't get any answers. And so I asked "what happened to your face then?" "I got **!!## bottled" was the less than ladylike reply before she loudly burped, filling the cab with the smell of stale beer and last nights kebab. "I got thrown out just cos I bottled the other lass back, but it's OK cos the fat cow ended up in the hospital" She then started describing the vast quantity of booze she had managed to knock back before reaching oblivion and then waking up in some strangers flea pit.

 I was thankful that it was only a short drive between the two much less than respectable houses that she was travelling between. She handed over a crumpled dirty note for the fare with a tattooed grubby hand. What a charmer eh? But when I checked the back seats I found that she had kindly left a snotty tissue, a well chewed wad of gum and a half smoked spliff behind in lieu of a tip.

Twisted Logic

Well that's the last Bank holiday weekend of the summer over with, and the next stop before we know it will be Christmas. 

 The super Sunday turned out to be a bit of a late starter with most folk not going out until the evening and not as much of the usual rush up to Dalton for the traditional afternoon boozing. Maybe it had something to so with the closure of that popular watering hole the Wellington, which leaves a huge dry gap between pubs and also was the biggest best beer garden in the town. 

Barrow itself was busy though and I was kept busy ferrying drunks into town from the pubs and house parties in outlaying areas. One group of four lads got into the most bizarre conversation as I drove them into town. They were talking about the date of some sporting event and the year of 1970 was mentioned. The inebriated guy who was sprawled on the front seat piped up with “but that was before I was alive." His mates fell about laughing but the poor guy just couldn't understand what he had said wrong. "So you were dead then" his mates said mockingly. 

My sprawled out drunk thought about this for a minute or two and then with the twisted logic of drunks the world over, declared "well yes if I wasn't alive then I must have been dead back then." This went on for the rest of the ten minute ride into town but nothing his mates could say would convince the sprawling drunk that he hadn't been dead before he was born.

Snails in Morocco

Well Morocco certainly turned out to be a bit of a culture shock in more ways than one.

 Firstly to witness the poverty and hardship which is endured by most Moroccans with a smile is a humbling experience. Some rural folk out in the desert still live as they did in biblical times, eking out a meagre living with herds of goats and making the trek to the distant water well by donkey. Looking out the window at the pouring down rain, which everyone has been moaning about here in Barrow is a stark contrast to a country where a lot of children have never even seen rain, the last decent downpour was nine years ago!

 Then at the other end of the scale we were told of an Arab multi billionaire who was spending tens of millions to move a giant cement factory, lock stock and barrel, ten miles up the road just because it spoils the view from his newly constructed huge luxury palace.

 Wondering down the beach promenade at night was at first a bit daunting even at one or two o-clock in the morning crowds of twenty or thirty thousand local folks were wondering about. After a while we noticed that most people were in family groups ranging from grandma down to young babes, all simply enjoying themselves. The very idea of even one family walking about late at night like this in Barrow town centre particularly down our infamous Gaza Strip just doesn't bear thinking about.

 What makes the big difference of course is that even though it is available most locals just don't touch alcohol. It really is refreshing to walk down the street at night and not have to dodge the pools of vomit and suffer the intimidating behavior of aggressive drunks.

 Walking down the prom on the last night I spotted something which brought back distant memories of trips to Walney beach and gathering winkles. A street vendor was selling freshly cooked bowls of the delicacy complete with the obligatory pin to tease them from the shells. After eating a half dozen or so it finally dawned on me that they weren't winkles at all, just common garden snails cooked in brine. The missus always said I would eat owt. I guess she is right.