When were you last really scared?We'd been watching the Shining. We were staying in an old church building. In hindsight, taking the shortcut home after midnight, in the mist, through the old graveyard was a bad idea.
I'm not sure what started it, but suddenly all the hairs on my neck had gone up and I was crapping myself. It was almost as bad as when, after a few cups of coffee too many and buzzing on caffeine, I got freaked out by my own reflection in the toilets.
When were you last really scared?
(
chthonic, Thu 22 Feb 2007, 15:43)
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For once, I did the scaring....For a while I did a stint as a cabbie somewhere in a backward town along the south coast of the UK.
Normally, I'm the definition of a cautious and considerate driver, that was until I got "the call".
A call to do a pick up from one of the local "celebrity" addresses.
Apparently this bloke was big in America (some awful christian band) and one of his friends needed a lift to the nearest train station.
So, I pull up to this big house and a builder, who was doing a spot of renovation, says to me "You're not here for Beddingfield are you?"
We all know how brickies like to take the piss so I just assumed he was pulling my leg.
"Better fucking not be!" and we all laughed.
This quickly died down to a snigger as, and I kid you not, Daniel Beddingfield gets into the back of my car.
Complete with stupid wooley hat and dark sunglasses, despite being mid October.
At this point I should point out that I have never hated anyone without good reason.
Except the Beddingfield. Halfway through the journey, and to my utter horror, the cnut starts singing in the back of my taxi.
The evil, pompus, big headed twat actually thought I'd be impressed.
Well, driving through a sleepy village on route, I decided to floor it.
The quicker this turd was out of my taxi the better as far as I was concerned.
I raced round corners, skidded round bends and braked heavily at junctions.
Even Schumacer would have had trouble keeping up (maybe not, but you get the picture)
It's not long before Beddingfield starts making comments about "slowing down" as his white knuckles bulge against his pathetic grip on the door handle.
This only fuels my fire and I increase the speed, culminating in a screeching halt outside the station.
As I got up and opened the door to help him out, I honestly think he was five seconds away from pissing himself.
I like to think I gave him flashbacks to the near crippling crash he experienced a few years back (here's to hoping)
And to top it all off the chubby nob-end didn't leave me a tip!
Celebrities? Pah!
You'll never guess who I had in the back of my cab last week........
(, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 9:30, Reply)
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