Needs must. Car in Penge having MOT. Me late. Penge a long, long way away on a bus or 10 trains (overland), but £10 away in a cab. (For readers unfamiliar with the finer points of South London: yes, Penge looks exactly as it sounds, as does Purley.) 3 phone calls later, the cab turns up. Scruffy diesel Citroen, driven by a surly mass murderer wearing a red baseball cap.
Him: Where you going?
Me: Croydon Road in Penge.
Him: Where's that?
Me: Um, in Penge. I can show you the way I go if you like.
Him: I know where Purley is.
Me: No no, Penge.
Him: Croydon Road, in Purley, not Penge.
Me: Um, this one's in Penge.
Him: I know where Croydon Road is. You saying I don't know my job?
Me: No, not at all, but there is a Croydon Road in Penge too, because that's where I go with my car every few months. I've been there a few times. Do you want me to show you on the A-Z?
Him: What is your attitude?
Me: What?
Him: You have a problem.
Me: Um, I don't, I'm just trying to be helpful and not waste your time.
Him: You have a problem.
Me: Um, OK. Are you going to go down the South Circular and then round through Tulse Hill, 'cos that's the way I go to Croydon Road.
Him: You go that way? (Sneers)
Me: Yes.
Him: That's not the way to Purley.
Me: I know, I go there when I'm going to Penge. Look, I think we have 3 options: 1) you look in a map; 2) I get out of your cab; 3) you let me show you the way.
Him: I'll take option 2. You've got a problem, lady.
Me: Oh.
Him: I'll take you back to your house. You are always right, yes?
Me: No, rarely, as it goes, but ...
Him: ... Yeah. Problem. You're all the same.
Me: WHO are all the same?
He doesn't reply. I say I hope he has a long and happy life as I remove myself from his car, and then phone the minicab office to complain. They are shocked. I pretend to cry. I will no doubt get a brick through my window at some point in the next 24 hours.
I then called another minicab firm. A very nice man came.
Me: I am going to Croydon Road in Purley.
Him: Purley or Penge?
Me: Oh! Sorry! Penge.
Him: Whereabouts love?
Me: Nissan garage.
Him: Oh yes, just up from the Vauxhall garage. Anerley way. You OK with the radio?
Me: (small voice) Yesthanksverymuchindeed.
Next time, I'm taking the bus.
3 comments:
Hum. Favourite Daughter's maternal great-grandmother comes from Purley. I am trying to figure out if this is a huge coincidence. I think it is not.
Most perplexing taxi-driver ever. We are ten minutes into our journey. In silence. As I prefer. Suddenly.
'You know', he says 'Often, I prefer a good shit to a fuck.'
I make a Mmmmmm noise and pray this is the worst of it.
Apparently David Seaman said something similar to Rory McGrath once, but I think it was scratching his arse that was better than sex.
I am not having much luck with minicab drivers. It might be me.
Oh, Purley! PURLEY! Say no more! Say. No. More!
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