A Conversation with a Glasgow Taxi Driver

Taxi Driver:

“I know Haghill quite well.  But I don’t really know Summerston.  Well, I’ve never been tae this particular street in Summerston.  I’ve been to Invershiel Road.  And Broughton Road. And roon the back there.  But I’ve never been tae this bit. It’s funny.  Ye widnae believe the number ae foxes A see at night roon here.  Hunners ae them.  Aboot 30 a night, A’d say.  Y’know – urban foxes are nocturnal but rural foxes come oot in the daytime as well.  A watched a programme aboot them wance.  City foxes huv an evolved jaw line.  They look different fae rural foxes.  Y’know – cos ae the food they eat.  A bet the city foxes’ll eat any’hin’.  A don’t agree wi’ the Japanese oan much, but A think we should eat whale.  A’m wi’ them oan that.  It’s the sheep A feel sorry fir.  We don’t even see whales – so how no’ eat them?  We see sheep aw the time.  A’ve eaten crocodile.  An’ shark.  A quite liked shark, actually.  You’ll probably no’ like this – but A’ve eaten guinea pig as well.  Quite dry.  A’m away tae Korea next year.  A’ve no’ decided if A’ll try dog yet.  A might.  But A’ve no’ decided yet.  A don’t understaun how we don’t just eat horse meat in this country.  A’m oan a diet at the minute actually.  A’ve been tryin’ (t)ae cut doon.  A get a couple ae Weetabix and a yoghurt fir ma breakfast ‘n’ then A hiv a sandwich ‘n’ a banana fir ma lunch ‘n’ that’s me.  Well, it’s two sandwiches really.  Next week, believe it or no’, A’m cutting doon even MARE.  A’ll only be hivvin’ the wan sandwich fir lunch.  Wi’ a banana.  A went oan holiday no’ tha’ long ago and we wir stayin’ in a hotel that put oan a buffet breakfast.  Y’know – a cooked buffet breakfast.  I’m no’ really intae a cooked breakfast, but A ate it right enough.  That’s enough to put ye aff but.  A couldnae enjoy the cooked buffet breakfast cos aw A wiz thinkin’ aboot wiz the trip tae the toilet efter it.  A’m eating ma hash browns and just worrying aboot huvin’ tae sit oan that toilet pan for 15 minutes.  And ye UR – sittin’ there…  fir 15 minutes… ‘n’  it can be quite, quite painful.  Ye hiv tae think whit that kind ae food diz tae yer boady.  It’s no’ worth it, is it?  Ur you fae Maryhill yersel’?”

Me:

“Yes”.

Taxi Driver:

“Ur you over 42?”

Me:

“Nope.  I’m 32.  But thanks for that.  As someone who’s ID-ed for cigarettes on a weekly basis, that’s quite refreshing”.

Taxi Driver:

“Oh.  Sorry hen.  Sorry aboot that.  I couldnae really see yer face when ye got in the cab.  Sorry aboot that.  I just wondered that if ye were fae Maryhill and ye WUR over 42, we might know some ae the same people but the age gap’s too big.  You’ll no’ know the same people as me.  Whit school did you go tae?”

Me:

“I went to St Mary’s Primary and then to John Paul Academy”.

Taxi Driver:

“I went tae a Catholic school.  A don’t think we should teach religion in schools.  A’m an atheist.  That Sister Margaret.  She was a total bastard.  She used tae drive round the streets in her car oan a Sunday and send ye hame if she caught ye playin’ fitbaw.  Sunday’s were fir church – ‘n’ fir church only.  Old bastard.  A hope she’s rotting in hell.  No’ that A believe in hell.  Cos A’m an atheist.  A think it a disgrace in this day and age that we have Catholic schools.  An’ Margaret Thatcher.  She’s a bastard anaw.  The damage that wummin’s done tae this country.  A have tae admit it, that see when she dies, A think A’ll be celebrating.  Proper partyin’.  What a bastard she is.  She deserves to go tae hell anaw.  For everything she’s done?  Tae Scotland in particular?  Aye, it’ll be changed days roon here, hen eh?  I bet you’ve seen some sights roon here?  It’s no’ too bad noo though eh?  Aye.  Thatcher’ll no huv helped roon here”.

Me:

“It’s number 23, please – just there.  By the lamp post on your left”.

Taxi Driver:

“That’s £11.40 hen”.

Me:

“If you take the £12, that’s grand.”

Taxi Driver:

“See ye later hen”.

Me:

*Slams door then runs away*

3 thoughts on “A Conversation with a Glasgow Taxi Driver”

  1. Hahahaha oh this made me laugh! Takes me back to the late night Glasgow taxi conversations… on exiting my Canadian husband would always say “Didn’t understand a f****** word of that…”

    I must let him read this…

    Thanks Carrie, just recently following your blog and loving it.
    Sharon (Big Love)

  2. Oh God. That’s a spectacular example of shite taxi banter. My personal way of avoiding this is to look a bit panicked and yell, “Que?! QUE?! NO INGLES, AMIGO.” whilst gesticulating wildly.

    I quite fancy a dog sandwich now…

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