Taxi Driver

"You lookin' at me?"

"You lookin' at ME?"

Yes, I fucking am fucking looking at you, you utter wanking cocksuker of a complete FUCKHEAD, I AM LOOKING AT YOU!

You're a minicab driver. You aproach a roundabout at which you will be taking the third exit*. There are three lanes to choose as you approach the roundabout. Do you:

A) Position yourself in the right hand of the three lanes so that you can navigate the roundabout and exit at your desired point without any undue hazard?

B) Position yourself in the middle lane, but indicate that you would like to take the third exit from roundabout and move over into the correct position once you have let others who have chosen the correct, albeit much fucking slower right fucking hand bastard lane, pass?

c) Fly out from the left hand lane, cutting up the people who were correctly positioned on the roundabout?

Hrrrm, let's think... Well, if you're a complete cunt (as most minicab drivers are) and you're driving a silver Vauxhall Vectra (says it all), then you obviously go for option C because you don't care about the safety of your passenger, other road users, or the fact that you're a complete COCK and you don't mind everybody on the road seeing this.

I was forced to sound my horn as a rebuke. Why won't anybody let me have a rocket launcher? The world would be a much better place if I had a taser, rocket launcher and an AK47. Oh and a big fuck off tank.

I'm going to suggest that all local councils set up a website where you can enter the registration or taxi licence number of any minicab that fuck' you off. When the count for any individual reaches ten over a specified period, a special squad is called upon to BURN THEIR FUCKING HOUSE DOWN!

Wankers.

They fly about at twice the speed limit, driving up the arses of those who don't particularly want to break-the-sound-barrier-today-thank-you-very-much. They are obnoxious, stupid, retarded fucking cunts who are a menace.

Anyway, if anybody from Salford City Council, that's www.salford.gov.uk, does trawls of the web to see who's linking to them, I hope they pick this up and I hope they run a check on that cunt who almost caused a serious accident because he couldn't be arsed to get in the right lane and queue up for a bit. His taxi licence number is 2972 and his reg was Y something, something, something LBT. Wanker.


Asian babe road rage
Of course, this wasn't the only incident that got my back up on my journey home this evening. There was some hold up somewhere and the traffic had been queuing for an age to take a left turn at a junction*. There I was, having finally reached sight of the junction minding my business, when this car full of dolled-up Asian lasses** aligned itself next to me and indicated to join the queue in front of me. I'm sorry love, but why the fuck should I let you in when the rest of us have been queueing for half an hour to reach this point? Of course, I shouted "FUCK OFF!" through the window. And you know what? They were actually shocked that I was angry and that I didn't just let them pull in.

But you know what made it worse? The fucking tit behind me in the queue actually let them in. You see, I'd actually choose to kneecap those that let these fuckers queue jump. If queuejumpers knew for certain that they'd never, EVER, get away with it, they wouldn't do it. Queue jumping only happens because people let them in and it is these tossers that need very severe punishment.

I have a sore throat.

*Those who drive on the opposite side of the road need to read this in a mirror.
**Of course, they being Asian has no bearing on this story whatsoever, but it gave me an excuse to get "Asian babe" in, which is always good for the hits.


Get out, stay out
I've had such fun working with my stand in line manager (the gay one). She's due to finish with us in May after covering for mat leave. At first I thought she was a bit of a nightmare, but there was always a side to her that I liked. (Not really like that though, I've learned to blank off any of those thoughts and feelings where "married" folk are concerned). She's become more relaxed over recent months and she's actually very nice and very competent.

Of course, she has suspected from very early on that I too am gay, but I don't really talk about my sexuality, mainly for the reason that, well, errr, I don't get any and I find that more embarrassing (a bit like Dafydd, the only gay in the village). So this was never really confirmed to her, other than by me saying things like "I'm not mad keen on children, I certainly don't want any and I much prefer cats", or while joking about why I couldn't have an affair with a female colleague, "No, I couldn't possibly do that, you're married... and you have a child". These (and my obsession with the Kill Bill films) are dead giveaways as far as I'm concerned, but my straight colleagues don't get it. Dur.

Skip to the end...

In an e-mail exchange yesterday, she asked me if I'd seen any of The L Word because she and her partner had watched some of the DVDs in between hanging wallpaper. I replied that it must've been hard to hang paper straight after watching that and that after watching The L Word, you think you're missing out, but there's some consolation in knowing that that it's not real . And the next thing I know, she's trying to arrange a night out down Canal Street.

Nice one.

Today, I was complaining about my hair needing cutting and she asked if I'd ever had it really short. No, and I've never worn dungarees or gone on a Pride march either.