Spotted in Benin West Africa this weekend on the road from the Burkina Faso border down to the port capital of Cotonou, Benin, : a car carrying a handmade coffin which was crafted to resemble a taxi cab. Presumably, this bespoke box was to be the final resting place for a taxi driver who perished. It is customary in some West African cultures to create coffins that call to mind some aspect of the deceased's life or work. Not everyone there gets buried in a customized coffin like this, but it is a sort of regionally specific popular art form. There is a phone number on the side but please don't call it. The guy's not gonna answer, and it might ring one of his survivors, which would be mean and rude.
Saturday night was a full moon which brought all the usual strange characters out in abundance one job consisted of two young couples off out for a nights moon bathing in the town. On the way into town they stopped at a supermarket cash machine to top up with money for the no doubt expensive night ahead. As the two lads waited in the queue for the busy cash dispenser the two lasses were having a strange conversation concerning one of the lads. The slightly bizarre conversation went like this:
Lass1 "so do you really think that he is one of them then?”
Lass2 "Well when we went down to Manchester shopping he kept looking in the window of that kind of shop, but I wouldn't let him go in.”
Lass1 "Oh that's awful but what else makes you suspicious"
Lass2 “Well I found some items of that kind of clothing hidden in his wardrobe, which I think he used to wear before he met me."
Lass1 "Maybe it was just a phase he was going through when he was younger; he might not be like that now."
Lass2 "No I really do think he is one of them, he tries to hide it but I've seen him waving and talking to them when he thinks I'm not looking."
Lass1 "Oh I'm so sorry for you, what will you do?"
Lass2 "Nothing yet but the first time I catch him tucking his pants in his socks that's it, I'm finished with the closet chav!"
A Canadian meth addict steals a bait car which has cctv installed. Wow I wonder if the guy is crazy to start with or is it the meth that makes folk that aggressive. I sure wouldn't like to pick him up as a fare.
It seems that for the bargain price of $24.95 I can buy the secret of invisibility. They assure me that it's not a toy or magic trick or even an illusion or ninja technique. Wow even the CIA and "foreign agencies" use it, I won't even have a shadow. What do you think, should I hurry and order it now! Mmm maybe not, if anyone else is tempted and buys it let me know if it works please. But remember folks "moral purposes only"
After five days on the run the mysterious missing snake was finally found alive and well on the back seat of my cab. Local garage Cumbria Car Centre fearlessly but nervously took on the job of searching every nook and cranny of the cab. After two days searching they were about to give up, obviously thinking that I must be going round the bend and imagining the ginger slippery snake. But late Thursday afternoon it seems that Rio, which I have now found is his name decided to come out and bask in the sunshine, and lay stretched out the full width of the back seats. Graham the boss, asked the stunned mechanics for a volunteer to capture the wayward reptile and when they all took several steps back, he fearlessly took hold of the vanishing varmint himself. Luckily I had left a pillowcase in the taxi which they tell me is the safest way of containing a snake. After Graham had posed for photos with his new found friend, he told me that this is the most unusual job he has ever done. I have to say that it ranks as one of my strangest fares yet, but unfortunately even though Rio had been an unwelcome passenger in the cab for five days he still managed to wriggle out of paying the fare. Rio was returned safe and sound to his relieved owner the same day.
It was Sunday afternoon and the two guys I picked up had an unusual request. They wanted me to take them over to Walney to buy a snake and then back to town.
For the purposes of this story let’s just call the guy in the front of the cab Stanley, and the one in the back Ollie.
I agreed to the job and we drove to a house on Walney where the deal was struck. Stanley emerges carrying a large box housing the 3 foot corn snake and places it on the back seat alongside Ollie. We had not got far from the house when Ollie nervously yells that the snakes head was peering out from its housing. Stanley reaches back and pushes it in and closes the door again. All seemed well for a mile or so until Ollie now sounding panicky tells Stanley that he can't see the snake. Stanley tells him not to talk daft, and that it will be hiding in the box. We reached the snakes intended new home and out they got with the box.
After a frantic search of the box and twenty minutes looking in the car no slithering reptile was found. Finally I left Stan and Ollie scratching their heads and drove back to the house on Walney where the snake had come from.
They assured me that the snake had definitely been in the box, and then helped search every nook and cranny of the car. No sign was found and so reluctantly I started work again. But somehow the thought of a slithering snake sliding up my trouser leg kept freaking me out. The other big problem was of course was, what if it frightened one of my fares to death. And so at first I thought maybe it would be best to warn them. All I said was that "if you spot a snake in the taxi, it's OK it's harmless." But the screams started to get on my nerves after a while and so I just kept quiet and checked the cab before every job. I had intended working till late with it being a super Sunday, but the thought of the snake slithering up someone’s leg in the dark didn't seem a good idea and so I finished at dusk.
As soon as my local garage opened on Tuesday I asked them to remove the seats and check the car out. They were a bit reluctant but gingerly they checked the whole car, and found nothing. And so it remains a mystery, where did the snake go and where is it now?
Barrow seems to have beeen the target of some rather unusual military activity over the weekend. First we had this sinister looking US B2 bomber checking us out several times, from a low level. Then we had an unmarked but obviously military landing craft skulking in the local docks. Mmm conspiracy theory anyone?
Not all taxi jobs actually involve carrying passengers, bunches of keys and parcels are often the only ones along for the ride. We get some strange jobs like this and today’s was one of the strangest. I had pulled up outside the house from where a taxi had been called and pressed my call-back button to ring their phone. After a minute or two the taxi back door opened and shortly after closed again. Thinking my fare had got in I asked "were too please" I got no reply and so turned around, only to be met by the sight of a pair of lady's high heel shoes sat on the back seat. Baffled I sat there for a minute or two and then knocked on the door of the house which had ordered the cab. The lass that answered said "didn't they tell you? The job is to take the shoes to a house in town where the fare will be paid and you will get a pair of boots to bring back for which I will pay the fare." There’s probably a perfectly simple explanation for this but I can’t fathom it! But knowing what some lasses are like about shoes maybe it's normal for women to swap footwear via taxi.
Saturday and it seemed like the first day of an early spring. And as usual when we get an unexpected bit of sunshine, folk were out and about in their droves. But after driving past the windy cavern in front of Barrow town hall, which is laughingly called our town square I couldn’t help but feel that something was missing. After several more trips past the bustling square which is overlooked by the Gothic splendour of the offices of our lords and masters, it slowly dawned on me. There seemed to be a distinct lack of black clothing and an unusual surplus of smiles and skateboards amongst the young uns that hang out around there most Saturdays. That was it; I couldn’t see any sign of the usual Gaggle of Goths. Not too long ago the town square looked like a crowd outside the crypt for a solemn Victorian funeral. What’s happened? It’s a grave situation. Has the Goth scene passed on, have all the young Goths metamorphosed into skater dudes? Or are they just too depressed to show their impossibly white faces. Have they gone for good or is this just a blip on the local fashion scene and they are trying to organize a Gothic revival.
I love this story about the Goth couple, the chap apparently walks the lady goth everywhere on a dog leash. They complain that a West Yorkshire bus driver refuses to allow them on his bus, telling them " We don't let freaks and dogs like you on." I would have no such problem with them using my taxi, as a matter of fact I would welcome them, I love the characters of life. It doesn't surprise me that they are northerners though, we seem to have the monopoly on larger than life characters up here in the wild and wonderful north.
Quite a few folk I have been picking up have been telling me tales of having seen strange lights in the Furness night sky. At first I thought that maybe they had been partaking of a bit too much Christmas spirit, but when more and more folks told the same tale, I started to wonder. Finally I myself caught a glimpse of the eerie green shimmering lights over Newbarns coming from the direction of Dalton. All was explained the next day when I happened to pick up the vicars wife from St Mary's church Dalton. She tells that the Rev Allan Mitchell has over the last few years developed a bit of an obsession with lasers. Each year his collection gets bigger and more powerful, this year he has a total of five lasers lighting up the night sky for the Christmas season. When conditions are right they can be seen from certain areas of Barrow reflecting off the low clouds, looking like the glow from the Northern Lights.
My passenger was in a seasonally festive mood, and why not he was on his way to the firm’s annual Christmas knees-up in Dalton.But first we had to go and pick up another three guys also going to the bash, all from different addresses in Barrow. The next guy climbed in stinking of the cheapest aftershave money can buy, but also in a jovial mood. The third man had on the brightest pink shirt I had ever seen which clashed blindingly with his electric blue necktie. You just knew that these guys were out for a good laugh and nothing was going to stop them. Loud laughter and daft jokes drowned out any serious conversation, until one of them told me where the last pickup was to be from. The atmosphere took a turn for the worse and the jokes and laughter became half hearted and feeble.I couldn't figure out what the problem was, had the cheap aftershave fumes got to them or was the shirt and tie combo leaving them speechless?
I knew the answer as soon as the fourth and final passenger opened his front door.Dressed from head to foot in sombre black he looked like a funeral director who hadn't been paid for his services.The mood got noticeably heavier when he got into the cab and nobody tried to make conversation. After a few minutes our black clad man said to his pink shirted workmate,” I see your uncle died last week then eh! What did he die from then?"" A heart attack” he replied sadly bowing his head. Their was a minutes silence before the black suited ghoul said "aye well your a bit overweight yourself you'll probably go the same way in the next five years." As I then drove on towards Dalton I listened to him question the others about what ages their parents died at, and from what causes.He then mirthlessly listed each of their unhealthy habits and vices and predicted at what age they would die.All were predicted a short lifespan and I found myself shrinking into the seat trying to escape from his funereal attention. The cheap aftershave now seemed to smell like the scent of Lilly’s on an oak coffin and the pink shirt somehow took on the look of a silk shroud.When we thankfully arrived at the pub in Dalton the grim reaper got out first and I asked the others why on earth they had invited him along."Because he's the boss" they replied, myself I think I would be looking for another job eh!
This has got to be one of the more strange and wacky ways to promote our beautiful localLake District. This video featuring a strange rapping squirrel is meant to appeal to the younger potential visitor market. Myself I think it would frighten a lot of them into staying away.
Finally I emerged blinking into the unaccustomed bright light and holding up my now loose pants. Twenty four miserable hours locked in a dark spider infested cellar on a food free diet. Twenty four long lonely hours with only an occasional chink of light from under the locked door, at which I would wail "It was only a joke luv, honest." Women eh! no sense of humour. (this of course is all a result of the last post "screwdriver"
It was just another local supermarket pickup and I thought nothing of it until one of the three lady fares opened the boot. I was just getting out of the car to help with the bags when a blood curdling scream pierced the early morning gloom. When I reached the back of the car, I was shoved out of the way by the three portly panicking ladies. When they had calmed down I explained that the grisly, blood stained leg in the boot was only a very lifelike fake. I had bought it for Halloween and put my foot in it by forgetting to take it out of the boot. They saw the joke and couldn't stop laughing all the way home. Of course after this I should have hidden the grisly limb, but no I couldn't resist leaving it in place. This led to lots more squeals and giggles for the rest of the day. The jokes were coming thick and fast, about taxi's costing an arm and a leg and that the best place for a foot was in a boot etc. But still it was Halloween eh!
The last two or three days have seen a big surge of visitors to this site. I decided to follow the link that is dragging hundreds of new visitors from all over the world here. Well ohh! my god when I clicked on the back link it turns out that someone posted a link on a strange message board. It seems that these visitors take more than a passing interest in panty wetting. Well I suppose it takes all sorts, whatever floats your boat, but myself I find it all a bit weird. Even more so, when I reread the post from last April that seems to be such a turn on for them. I for the life of me just can't see what the attraction is check it out here. Oh by the way the title "Golden Showers" is a deliberate ploy to see if attracts any more strange fish.
Some Barrow folk were walking around waving jackets or bags around above their heads, others would not leave the house. Cyclist and motorcyclists stopped and pushed instead of riding, barbecues were canceled and even the most dedicated smokers moved back into the pub. And the cause of all this panic and mayhem was nothing more than the common ant. Admittedly their were millions upon millions of them, in some places the sky was almost black with the clumsily flying beasts. Known as "flying ant day"it happens once a year when conditions are just right for the ants nuptial flight. No one seems to know why they all choose the same time but the mating flight only lasts for about three hours after which the poor males all die(typical eh!) The females which survive bite of their wings and set about establishing new colony's, so be warned stock up on ant powder.
Spotted in Benin West Africa this weekend on the road from the Burkina Faso border down to the port capital of Cotonou, Benin, : a car carrying a handmade coffin which was crafted to resemble a taxi cab. Presumably, this bespoke box was to be the final resting place for a taxi driver who perished. It is customary in some West African cultures to create coffins that call to mind some aspect of the deceased's life or work. Not everyone there gets buried in a customized coffin like this, but it is a sort of regionally specific popular art form. There is a phone number on the side but please don't call it. The guy's not gonna answer, and it might ring one of his survivors, which would be mean and rude. 
