Taxi Drivers

A thread for us to share our experiences with these characters.

One of them (Philip O’Brien) initiated conversation with me about the budget this afternoon. I was pretty tired and had no interest in conversing and gave a stock short answer about it being ‘controversial enough’ and hoped he’d shut up. Then he got visibly more animated and started moving his hands in an aggrivated manner and provided me with a heartfelt little speech:

‘I’ll tell you something. I’ll tell you something now. There’s a lot of people who need to take a look at themselves in this country. And I’ll tell you now. I’ll tell you - Bono’s getting away fairly lightly in all of this. Do you see him on telly or in the papers trying to get people to support Irish and buy Irish. Bono doesn’t care about our economy. You’d have to be black for Bono to give you a dig out.’

Mad cunt.


Quote of the day here from Minister Alan Kelly introducing new regulations in the taxi industry.

There had been an “almost laissez faire” attitude to the taxi industry since deregulation, he said.

Isnt that what deregulation is?

:lol: :clap:]

Fair play to him for saying what most people think and do anyway

Really? Wouldn’t even cross my mind-I go straight to the top of the queue and get into first taxi-couldn’t give a fuck who is driving it.

[quote=“Mac, post: 191449”]]
Fair play to him for saying what most people think and do anyway[/quote]

Eh that’s not what most people do. Most people get in the first available taxi.

I’d be the same, but in saying that I had to direct a lad of foreign extraction to Camden Street one day.
Fucking Mecca for Taxis and he didn’t know where it was.
God help you if you are going somewhere unusual. I’ve had to pull out the sat nav on the phone a few times.
Of course a Dub is going to know his way around better, but in the trade off you’ll have to listen to him talk shite for the whole trip.

They should have all eastern Europeans in Red cars, Africans in Black cars, Brits in Union Jack trim and Irish lads in Shamrock vinyl covered cars :clap:

Before xmas 12 months ago I got into a taxi on Dawson Street and said “The Oarsman please pal”.

“Where’s that buddy?” said my salt of the earth Dub chauffeur.

“Ringsend” says I.

“Oky doky” says my fresh vegetables dodging friend.

As he started crossing O’Connell Street bridge, I said “Where are you off to pal?”

“Where’s Ringsend again?” says he.

Directed him to it from there, although he did a few zig zags between Pearse Street and Grand Canal Street on the way.

“There you go pal-€18 please.”

Threw him a tenner and told him to go fuck himself.

Dem foreigners though.

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That’s a fuckin’ stupid thing to say to someone.

What we need to do is demolish the city completely and put in a grid system. We can have avenues running from north to south and streets running from east to west. No more confusion.

Would also create a load of construction jobs.

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:lol: :pint:


They should introduce the knowledge. Just like in London. And then as your test some bogger thick guard can get into the car and ask you to drive him to Rody’s or Coppers.

We already have that I think.

Yeah, but the taxi drivers don’t.

Good to see yourself and Flano have abandoned your dog eat dog free market fundamentalism and are now advocating European-style state socialist policies, brian.

wouldnt bother me either who was driving. as likely to get ripped off by some Irish lad as “an obvious non national”. Was in Dublin before Christmas, and got a taxi where an ignorant Tipp cunt from Toomevara was driving. Took a detour for fucking ages thinking myself and the lad with me (who was pissed and trying to talk bogger to him, hence why I reckon he thought he could get away with it) told him to go fuck himself when we got to our destination and paid what it should have cost.

anytime a taxi man has tried rip me off in Dublin they have always been Irish.

A taxi driver boxed me in the arm once when I was slagging off Paul O’Connell. I was a backseat passenger at the time so he had to stop and turn right around to do it.


I was in a taxi with a fella one night in Limerick claiming to be Keith Earls uncle, I never said as many complimentary words about a sportsman in my life. I survived unscathed.