Other end of the taxi problem
I've been on the receiving end of a taxi incident like Creamy Discharge's story below (although I've never been on the receiving end of creamy discharge, thankfully). I was on the way to a gig with our drummer, who at that time had a Ford Sierra. He decided he needed some food (he's a fat wee bugger) and so we stopped at a fish and chip shop in Grangemouth. He suggested that I drive, so he could fully appreciate his lard-soaked delicacy, so I got into the driving seat when he was in the chippy.

Next thing I knew, a drunk woman was getting into the car with shopping bags - "King Street!" she said. I replied that she was mistaken and that she had not actually entered a Hackney carriage for hire. My mate at this time was watching this from the chippy and wondering wtf was going on. Anyway, I eventually got the message through and she struggled out, only to come in again two minutes later, telling me that the car was actally a taxi and that I was wrong.

I told her to fuck off this time, and she seemed to get the message.

I think it must be the fumes from the refinery - Grangemouthers are an odd bunch!
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Fri 1 Jun 2007, 8:56, Reply)