| “Lets
go meet some kerr-azy drunk people!”
Race around some lumpen shithole Home Counties
town, ferrying tired and emotional undesirables from place to
place in a rickety Vauxhall infused with the queasy aroma of synthetic
air freshener.
Simulate the smelly world of poor
navigation, bare-faced overcharging and
lay-by molestation. Um.
We mean: “Mini-cab, sir?”
* PICK UP
gangs of excitable slappers eager to blank out the grinding monotony
of their lives by pretending to be more drunk than they actually
are after guzzling several bottles of Reef that the spotty one
apparently bought from the Spar on the way back from cashing her
Giro.
* LAUGH dutifully
as they make lewd propositions towards you and try to to resist
the temptation to roll the car as a cursory glance in the rear
view mirror reveals that the skinny one with the tiara has just
got her courgette tits out and is shaking them about behind you.
* WATCH in
silent, awe-filled pity as various passengers struggle to work
out how to open the car door on six separate occasions in one
night.
Mmm… Essence of mountain
stream and jizz-caked upholstery.
* SOB quietly
to yourself as you wait in Sainsbury’s car-park for chucking-out
time. Tapping the C button will allow you to subtlely bash one
off.
* GRIT YOUR TEETH
in silence as one passenger incorrectly informs another that Rick
Astley's first UK single was 'She Wants To Dance With Me' when
it was quite obviously 'Never Gonna Give You Up'.
* BREATHE THROUGH
YOUR MOUTH to avoid gagging on the regurgitated lager swilling
around your ankles, as some twat with his head between his legs
murmurs
pitifully to himself in the back seat.
* DRIVE LIKE AN ABSOLUTE
UNHOLY CUNT and be reviled by all humanity.
”You know what, mate? You just
drive around randomly until the
medication kicks in. I really don’t mind where we go”.
* RAGE INWARDLY
at the bizarre, impossible-to-turn-off Afghani music with too
much treble which comes installed as some kind of Orwellian standard
in your MiniCab.
* SLOWLY GNAW AWAY
your own tongue to block out the irritation caused by intermittent,
overloud crackles of job-calls from the control centre.
Crazy Minicab.
HAIL
it at your local games emporium. Not literally, though. They’ll
punch you.
TMUK,
March 2004.
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