Female Taxi Driver

Right, folks, where to? Top end or bottom end - I don't know, these one-way systems are a joke, aren't they?
What we got here, then? Stretch limo, eh? Very nice. Wouldn't mind giving that a go. Not that they'd let me. Not part of their inner circle. Oh, all right, after you, Claude. Yes, you, darling, you've got a nice uniform and a nice limo to drive, so you'll just have to come out in front of me, won't you? You want to be careful, though; you wouldn't like to scratch your nice paintwork, though, would you? They're not all as careful as me. Mind you, who knows who he's carrying - could be the local Mafioso. There's a few of them in taxi business as well, I can tell you. Yes, you notice how all the windows are always smoked glass? Must give you a funny view of the world, looking through that sort of thing all the time. You'd think everybody was the same colour, wouldn't you? Mind you, most of them are, in his town.
Six seven - on the way to Handbridge. No, another ten minutes. No, Handbridge! Well, you took the booking, didn't you? Yes, well, if I was telepathic, I wouldn't need this radio, would I? Six seven out. I don't know, think you're psychic, some of these people.
What's that, love? Oh, a few years, now. No, it suits; my old man's a lorry driver - away from home a lot. We don't see a lot of each other, and that suits, to be honest; something must be working; we've been together long enough - I mean, we go on holiday together and all that, and we have a great time, but I couldn't be doing with seeing him every day of me life - cooking and cleaning and bed-making for two; it'd do me head in. No, he doesn't worry; well, if he does, he doesn't let on. He rings me up on the mobile when he gets a minute when we're both not working or asleep - it's OK; it pays for things; it suits.
Races again - just an excuse to get drunk; they can't see anything, most of them, let alone place a bet. More money than brains. MIND IT! MIND IT! Look where you're going, angel! Or you'll go where all good angels belong. Yes, I know it's got a big brim, and I know it's a little bit windy, though not as far to the wind as you are, but that's no excuse not to look, is it? Some of these bimbos, I don't know. Got more in their hats than in their heads, half of them.
These lights - I don't know, supposed to keep the traffic moving better - seen no sign of it myself, perhaps their computer needs a service. Course, we're still in the tail end of the bingo rush at the moment. Pensioners, now - they're the wildest; they just don't care - they don't know what giant leaps medical science has made, I reckon, because the way they spend their money, they don't intend being around for long.
I'll just try down here - I know it says buses only, but this is a sort of bus, isn't it - chance of a fine is pretty unlikely at this time of night anyway. Oh yeah, you get 'em all - parking fines, driving down roads you're not supposed to fines - driving the wrong way down the street fines - driving a car with a yellow badge fines - you have to work out all the angles, work out the likelihood and work out the number of fares extra you might get by doing it. It's all a balancing act, a financial balancing act, me dear. Some of the lads get stroppy with the wardens and the policemen - well, especially policewomen - but what's the point. I know every one says things like they're only doing their job, but it's true, we know the score, so what's the point in arguing about it; we take the chance and we take the consequences well - no sense in arguing about it.
Don't take as much of a chance as some of these girls, though: pull your skirt down I tell 'em - pull your skirt down. Stop showing all you've got. Not that they have got much, some of them - not much in the bank, not much up there, either. Stay there, sonny, stay there. So not much in the way of prospects, either. I'd hate that - that's why I keep plugging away at this- I don't want to end up poor and bored. Thing I can't stand, though, thing I can't stand is violence: leave him I tell them - leave them: plenty more fish in the sea. These girls, though. Things people do to have a good time: the misery they go through. Wouldn't catch me mistreating my body like that - I've got a lot of body, I know, and the Lord knows it's not going to get any less sat behind this wheel all the time but I know how to treat my body well - everything in moderation, that's what I preach, well, apart from seeing my old man, that is.
Sorry, what's that? Well, you do see a bit of violence, but not as much as people think you do. One time, some bloke jumped the queue - I just drove round to the garage and said I wasn't taking them anywhere - gestured to the bloke there to call the police if there was any trouble. then I just said if they wanted a taxi, they'd have to queue for it just like everyone else. They got out, no problem - they didn't like it, mind, but they got out all the same. I told them to get to the back of the queue, then I went round and picked up the next lot who were waiting. They learn eventually, when they realise you're not going to put up with it.
What's that? No, surprising enough. I actually prefer the nights - they're not quiet but I don't feel threatened.
Blokes don't scare me but they disgust me sometimes - puking up in someone else's car - I mean, you wouldn't puke up on your own doorstep would you mind you some of them would - worse than pigs, some of them - rolling around in their own vomit. Yes, you too, darling, I love you too. God, and they say women are bad drivers.
Men, they're different animals, I see it, that's why it's sort of strange living with one - not that we see each other much. He's out on the lorries and I'm doing this at night so even when he's there...
But I love him; that's what counts.
What's that, pet? No, he doesn't worry. He's knows I can take care of myself; he knows I've got backup. What's that? Oh, that would be telling. You needn't look around, either. Feeling guilty, are you? Don't worry; I'm only joking.
Mind you, talking about the night, here's times of real quiet sometimes - real, total peace, between 2 & 4 when one load of clubs has turned out and the other lot haven't churned them out yet. Or they're on the prowl, looking for women, then giving up and going for a curry. Now that's a job I certainly wouldn't fancy; being an Indian waiter. I'm not surprised they... well, no matter; it's probably all rumours anyway. Mind you, it was in the papers that one time. Ugh. I ask you, semen. I mean, I don't eat the stuff at source so I don't want it in my sauce, if you know what I mean. I'm sure my old man wouldn't mind, but there's some things I don't do, just like go to Ellesmere Port on a Saturday night. How that Monica Lewinsky... Anyway, no matter. Scuse, perhaps I've gone a bit over the top. Excuse me.
What's that, darling? Well, actually, the dodgiest moments are when you have to take someone out to the country - especially when they're on their own - downright spooky it is at times. Some of these dark roads...
Maybe that's stupid, not to be scared, but I think they're all wind, most of the time. Better wind than puke, any day, any rate.
Don't get me wrong, I'm on edge most of the time. I've got my radar going, got more radar going inside the car than outside - mind where you're going, you half-wit! - and they say that taxi drivers are bad drivers.
No, it doesn't pay to get involved. Most things I say I say under my breath more than your life's worth they're not worth the time you spend on them really.
Yes, that's right, we drive on the left in this country! No, only had someone do a runner on me twice. I did actually think of running after the first one, then I thought - it's less than a fiver, what's the point? Ten to one he'd come off worse, but you never know, he might have a knife or something. Sorry? No, never. Never seen a weapon, not in eight years.
You do get some weirdoes, though. There was this bloke once - effing and blinding all the time, then when I tried to drop him off, he suddenly didn't seem to recognise where we were, then he made me go back to where I'd picked him up. And of course, the clock was going round all the time. He paid me, mind - don't know what got into him. I often wonder about people like him - try to work it out. What's going on in his mind, what his life's like. I think maybe I should write it all down - publish me memoirs.
Sorry, bit of a rough old road this one - raise a few corrugations on the back of your thighs, won't it? I should say so.
Just up here, isn't it? What's the matter with you - we dancing or driving? Come on, then; out you come. Thank you very much. Bye. Right, here we are, folks - that'll be four pounds twenty five please.