Recent scientific research has proved the existence of a taxi driver gene which genetically pre-disposes people to become taxi drivers, go out and buy a beaded seat cover, grow a fat backside and completely forget the street map of the town they have lived in for their entire lives. Examples of behaviour directly attributed to the taxi gene (all experienced by this Scaryduck Corporation researcher in various locations) are:
* Not knowing the location of the largest hotel in town, despite it being a thirty story behemoth with flashing neon sign on the roof visible for miles around (Tokyo)
* Possessing a car with only two speeds: stop and ninety miles per hour, with a radio turned up as loud as possible to drown out the screams of the passengers (Nicosia)
* Mistaking a large building site complete with cement mixers, bastard great holes in the ground and 200 hairy-arsed builders for the Sheraton hotel (Amman)
* An affinity for advanced mathematics, where the number displayed on the meter is a mere fraction of the actual fare. (Everywhere)
* Becoming “matey” with your fare, engaging them in conversation whilst driving three times round the one-way system (Winchester)
* Suddenly developing a bad back as soon as they see the size of your suitcase, instantly cured by the sight of US Dollars (Lagos)
* An irrational fear of the huge-tentacled creatures and brain-eating zombies that reside “Sarf of the River” (London)
* Mistaking the request “Take me to the Hotel Manhattan” for “Take me on a guided tour of the city until the meter shows five figures”. (Seoul)
My research continues. Can I go home now?
"Papa's got a brand new shit bag"
Yadda yadda yadda, only one day left to vote in The Joe Dolce Shaddap You Face Memorial Music Award.