I needed to get a black cab home from work this evening as I'm shooting tomorrow and had to lug the regulation 67 bags of 'stuff/hard drives/callsheets/laptop etc' home. I was pleasantly surprised by the cab that stopped for me on Wardour Street for a change, as this one seemed super polite. The driver saw me struggling with all my crap and got out of the car to open my door and let me in. What a gent I thought. And I still thought he was a gent as we drove towards Hackney in the evening sun. How refreshing, I thought, not to have to listen to someone moaning about mini cabs or telling me what famous people he had driven around. he was simply listening to some kind of monk music on the radio and keeping himself to himself/
Then as soon as we turned onto the Queensbridge Road, something unsavoury happened. A man cycled past us in a pale yellow woolen jumper and pink cotton shorts. And the mild mannered cab driver turned into the most angry man I have ever had the misfortune to be trapped in a small space with. The chanting monks got abruptly turned off and the following conversation occurred. Well, I say conversation, but it was more of a tirade.
Angry Driver: I f*cking hate driving East at this time of day, doyouknowwhatImean? Its a f*cking nightmare. I always know its gonna be a f*cking hassle when I get jobs like yours.
Me: Sorry?
Angry Driver: All these f*cking cyclists, doyouknowwhatImean? Look at this one! He's got pink shorts on! They're probably f*ucking see through. You don't want to look too hard incase you see something you don't want to see! DoyouknowhatImean? What's that all about?!
Me: Hmm. I...I don't know.
Angry Driver: I bet he wears a f*ucking a suit to work and this is his little thing at the end of the day. And look at his f*ucking jumper! Who wears a jumper that colour?! I bet it's his mum's. And he's got headphones on!!! Look! Can you see?!
Me: Yes.
Angry Driver: I bet he's listening to f*ucking Bronski Beat! Ha! Or Judy Garland. And if I had big fat white legs like that I'd stick some fake tan on 'em, doyouknowwhatImean?
Me: Mm, yes, I suppose they are a bit pale...
Angry Driver: Mondays are always the worst. I work 7 days a week but they all f*ucking come out on a Monday. F*cking Boris Johnson. He gave everyone a hard on for cycling, doyouknowwhatimean?
Me: I'll just get out here thanks.
Then as soon as we turned onto the Queensbridge Road, something unsavoury happened. A man cycled past us in a pale yellow woolen jumper and pink cotton shorts. And the mild mannered cab driver turned into the most angry man I have ever had the misfortune to be trapped in a small space with. The chanting monks got abruptly turned off and the following conversation occurred. Well, I say conversation, but it was more of a tirade.
Angry Driver: I f*cking hate driving East at this time of day, doyouknowwhatImean? Its a f*cking nightmare. I always know its gonna be a f*cking hassle when I get jobs like yours.
Me: Sorry?
Angry Driver: All these f*cking cyclists, doyouknowwhatImean? Look at this one! He's got pink shorts on! They're probably f*ucking see through. You don't want to look too hard incase you see something you don't want to see! DoyouknowhatImean? What's that all about?!
Me: Hmm. I...I don't know.
Angry Driver: I bet he wears a f*ucking a suit to work and this is his little thing at the end of the day. And look at his f*ucking jumper! Who wears a jumper that colour?! I bet it's his mum's. And he's got headphones on!!! Look! Can you see?!
Me: Yes.
Angry Driver: I bet he's listening to f*ucking Bronski Beat! Ha! Or Judy Garland. And if I had big fat white legs like that I'd stick some fake tan on 'em, doyouknowwhatImean?
Me: Mm, yes, I suppose they are a bit pale...
Angry Driver: Mondays are always the worst. I work 7 days a week but they all f*ucking come out on a Monday. F*cking Boris Johnson. He gave everyone a hard on for cycling, doyouknowwhatimean?
Me: I'll just get out here thanks.
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