(What follows is quite a long story, and contains four letter words in
abundance, but I just had to share what happened the night before last
(Weds 25th October). Please also note that what I'm describing here is
not the actions of some dodgy minicab driver from a backstreet cab
office, but of one of London's supposedly professional Black Cab taxi
drivers. Another warning about the language that follows; every word
is true, but if you're at all likely to be offended, don't read on.)

The story starts at about midnight, when my girlfriend and I get into
this cab in the centre of town. I give the destination as "Road B,
just off Road A" (where Road B is pretty small and nondescript, but
Road A is a fairly major road in the area which most cabbies will
know). The driver then asks "Is it down past the Arndale Centre?" to
which I reply "Yes", because you do indeed go past the Arndale before
turning onto Road A a few hundred yards later. However it turns out
that what he meant was "is Road A literally alongside the Arndale", not
simply past it and then on a bit. With this misunderstanding in place,
but as yet unknown to any of us, we set off.

Fast forward to the Arndale Centre, where the driver duly makes his
left turn immediately after passing it. Realising what's happened, I
then say "no, not here, the turning's further up," to which the driver
replies "you said it was down past the Arndale." I then clarify: "Past
it, but not right next to it, we need to keep going up that way."

The driver does a U-turn, making exasperated sounds under his breath
and being a bit rougher with the wheel than he needs to (warning sign
number 1, this) and we carry on the quarter mile or so to the turning
we actually want. "It's left here," I say as we approach it, and he
speeds into the turn, barely slowing down as he does so (warning sign
number 2).

Now then -- when taking this particular left turn, you're immediately
faced with a fork in the road, of which we need to take the right fork.
This "left then right" instruction has caused slight confusion in the
past when guiding people to our road, but it appeared that this
particular driver was in no mood for confusion. He goes straight for
the left fork, causing me to give some pretty urgent corrective
instructions along the lines of "no, the right fork, this one here!"
leading to some even more aggressive manoeuvring of a type which leaves
his willingness to get wound up in no doubt whatsoever -- something
confirmed by his next words.

"Can't you two make up your bloody minds where you're going?" he says.

"We did," my girlfriend replies, "it's Road B off Road A, we told you."

"So I'm supposed to go left but really it's right, is that it?" he
says.

"No, it's left *then* right," she says.

"Oh, it's that simple is it?"

"Exactly," she says, in what I hear as a fairly normal tone of voice.
The driver obviously doesn't think so -- and that's where it all starts
to get interesting.

He slams on the brakes, throwing us forward in our seats, and comes to
a halt in the middle of the road. He then hits the switch to lock the
passenger doors (note this for later), turns in his seat to face my
girlfriend, and says "Where do you get off being so bloody sarcastic,
eh? So what if I don't know where this road is you patronising cow?"

I'm stunned into silence at this point. My girlfriend simply says "I'm
not being sarcastic, we just want to get home for Christ's sake. Look,
can't you just take us the rest of the way, or we'll pay you here, or
whatever."

Our road is visible up ahead from here; paying and getting out right
now would have been fine if we'd been able to. However the driver has
other ideas. He starts driving up the hill again, but then slams the
brakes once more, then does the same again, throwing us forward in our
seats each time. Then he stops again, turns to face me this time, and
launches into what I can only describe as a torrent of abuse.

"I hope you're not thinking of marrying this bloody cow," he says (we'd
been discussing wedding plans on the way there, a conversation he'd
clearly been listening in on). "Some ****ing life you're going to
have, mouth like that on her. Doesn't she know how to act like a
lady?" More abuse follows, including, "I hope you two never think of
having kids, some ****ing upbringing they're going to have with a
mother like her!"

(Now in what follows the level of swearing and shouting will pretty
much evenly matched from both sides, but it's worth noting that at this
point we're sitting in a cab with the driver shouting abuse at us,
lurching the vehicle back and forth, and -- as I found when I tried the
handle -- *the doors still locked*, when our only contribution to the
situation so far is to correct a couple of wrong turnings and say "for
Christ's sake".)

I can't stress enough just how threatened and intimidated we feel at
this point. For my own part, although my girlfriend is more than
capable of holding her own, the level of abuse directed at her and
about her isn't something I can keep quiet over. I say the first thing
that comes into my mind: "Listen mate, when you're talking to her like
that, you're talking to me like that."

His reply: "Yeah, and what are *you* going to do about it?"

I just wanted out at this stage, but the abuse was to continue. "Can't
you two act like ****ing grown-ups?" he says. "Where the hell do you
get off ****ing talking to me like that?"

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I shout. "Why are you being such a
**** over a couple of wrong turns?"

"Oh, so you think you're clever as well do you?" he says. "You can use
big words too?"

It's clear that something has to be done to end this. I hold up my
hands and say "Okay, look, in all seriousness -- ", intending to say
something like "we meant go past the Arndale, you thought we meant
alongside it, but we're here now, lets just pay up and get out," but I
never actually get that far. He's now turned on my girlfriend again,
shouting and yelling at her, and even after four or five attempts at
the words "In all seriousness", finally shouting at the top of my
voice, I can't actually get a word in edgeways. All I can do, my brain
running on pure adrenaline by this point, is shout back at him about
what a ****ing **** he's being.

The shouting escalates even more now if that's possible, a tirade of
abuse from both sides (me included -- all I can say is that when you're
literally locked in to a situation like that then instinct takes over),
and it's only when both my girlfriend and I are shouting "Just let us
****ing pay and get out of here" that there is any hope of an end. We
stuff the money through the glass divide, get the change thrown back at
us in return, and are finally allowed to get out. However the abuse
continues behind us, with the driver actually winding his window down
to keep the insults coming. "Make sure you never come across me again,
you little ****," he says. And my reply -- the only part where I
genuinely lost control and where I would act differently if it happened
again -- was to say "If I do, I'll rip your ****ing face off with my
bare hands." Right then, I reckon I probably could do as well.

He makes some comment about how someone my size wouldn't stand a chance
(I'm 5'8" & medium build, no midget but certainly not of intimidating
stature), throws in a few more "****s" and "****s", then executes a
tyre-screeching U-turn and speeds away.

So all in all it's an event I'll remember for a long time to come. For
my part, I'm still genuinely amazed at the way he was acting. I did
consider taking his number and reporting him, but the fact we'd both
been drinking that night and that I ended up threatening violence would
almost certainly count against us if he decided to put the right spin
on his side of the story. Notwithstanding the slagging match that came
later though, the thing that really amazes me is the level of abuse we
were taking from him when we first stopped, when all we'd done was
point out a couple of navigational errors.

Luckily I've never had an experience like this before (most other
cabbies I've ever travelled with have been excellent), though next time
I flag one down I'll certainly take a careful look who's driving. And
if ever you're on High Holborn late on a Wednesday night, just pray you
don't run into him yourselves...