A night with a cabby
The Tab joins Manchester Cars for a voyage of vomit and violence.
From passed-out drunks vomiting to brave fare dodgers, cabbies have seen it all, and Amjid, a minibus driver for Manchester Cars, is no exception.
Tales of the Taxi
“I’ve had a few throw up. I had two girls in once, and I could smell something. I asked if they’d been sick, and they were like “No, no!” Anyway I checked, and it was all over the seats.
And once I had three lads who were sick on the same night, one after another”.
He’s had plenty of people do runners too.
“I had a lad who was sat in the back with his hood up. He asked me to pull into a takeaway, and when he got out, he legged it. He was falling all over the place – I could’ve caught him, but I just left it”.
Then I picked up a couple, and the lass were pretending to be sick. I pulled over for her, and they both legged it down an alleyway”.
But who tend to be the worst – lads or lasses?
“Depends who you get. Guys can be rowdy and shouting their heads off. But I’ve had girls who’ve blown the horn or tried grabbing the steering wheel off me”.
Enter the drunks
After a few sober passengers, the rowdier people soon stepped in. Two blonde girls had ditched the lad they were with – he’d found a friend for the night on Canal Street.
“He’s pulled, so we’re off to get some straight men now! We’ve had a bit to drink, but we can handle it”, they proudly said.
Next came a foursome who called themselves the Spice Girls. One of them had the nickname ‘Sucker Soppers’ (apparently her party trick was sucking up a shot between her legs).
Another of the girls dished the dirt on everyone else: “This little one shat in the back of a cab once, this one spewed down the side of one, and she was fingered in one!”
The rest of their conversation was ‘interesting’. Names like Rolf Harris and Jimmy Saville kept cropping up, and Sucker Soppers thought Jeremy Clarkson was the Prime Minister.
Another highlight was the group that tried (and failed) to bring their vodka and cokes in with them. Then they tried to smuggle a lad in the boot and again, Amjid caught them out.
“I was just checking your suspension was Ok”, the lad slurred, as he stumbled out of his hiding place.
And the girl who sat next to me was an angry little lady. She smashed her head on the dashboard climbing over to the front, and then ripped off my glasses.
“I will literally sit on your face – I will write your article all over your fucking head!” she yelled.
Just as I was bracing myself for the biggest slap of my life, we thankfully arrived at their house.
As well as the passengers, there were plenty of funny sights through the windows; a lad took a long piss down the side of a Deansgate restaurant, and another guy was having a fight outside Tesco while his mate sat watching on the steps.
Things calmed down as 5am neared, and with one last job taking a bouncer home from Zoo, Amjid called it a night.
“You’ll see some sights”, he’d warned me earlier. He was dead right.
Massive thanks go to Bill and Les at Manchester Cars for organising the taxi ride, and of course Amjid for being my driver.
To hire a Manchester Cars taxi, call 0161 228 3355