Adverts, innum?
dick rampant


Kebabs 'n' cabs

By R&H taxi columnist Sherbet Trotter

Posted May 07, 2015
kebabs and cabs don't mix
You want chilli sauce with that? Not in my cab, mate. (Check bottom for credit)

Dickheads with kebabs are all in a night's work when you're a Newquay taxi driver.

Chief hack's note: This story was originally filed prior to the recent May Bank Holiday weekend (2-4/5/15). However, due to reasons of alcohol, I've only now got around to posting it. My sincere apologies to Sherbet and all our beloved and cherished readers for my booze-soaked slackness. Sorry. The hangover was karma in itself.

Well, this could be my first and last column – who knows it may not even be published – but I have to look at the taxi world on a week-to-week basis.

This week, with the first Bank holiday of the year approaching (I don't count Easter due to the high moral values associated with it; you cannot really celebrate a crucifixion), what can we expect?

I'm sure it will be one of many familiar stories: someone arrives for a weekend, they dump their bags in the local guest house and make a break to the centre of town and the pub, without taking any notice of where they are staying or even on the odd occasion the name of the guest house!

Eight hours of sun if they are lucky, as much booze as they can get down their throat then it's the stagger to the kebab shop.

Now, this is where it gets tricky – usual order of doner kebab sliced off a trunk of meat the size of a great oak that has been sitting on an upright skewer since daybreak.

Once the slices of doner have been carved off, it's shovelled onto a split pitta bread.

This is then covered with a ladle of chilli sauce, topped with a handful of iceberg lettuce and shredded onion and topped off with a couple of slices of cucumber and tomato.

Now, the greatest feat of all that the kebab shop employee has to perform is to close the polystyrene box, which is bursting at the sides, resembling an 18-stone man wearing a shirt three sizes to small with the material stretching and threatening to catapult the shirt buttons through the air like a clay pigeon leaving a trap.

I'm sure you've got the idea.

What follows next can be the highlight of the cab driver's evening as the customer opens the polystyrene box as he approaches the cab, determined to eat his supper while he is conveyed to an unknown destination.

This is a sample of the possible conversation:

"Sorry mate, you cannot eat that in here."

"I'll keep it closed."

"No, mate, you are not bringing that in here."

"Why not?"

"Well I've got a rule, the kebab shop won't let me take my cab in his shop, so I don't have his food in my cab."

"It's against the law, you have got to take me!!"

"Go away mate", or words to that effect.

So off goes mate wandering down the road to the next cab.

However, you can bet your bottom dollar that by the time he has eaten his kebab and pissed through a letterbox he ends up coming back, and its either you're still there or you have done a job and got back to the front of the rank.

"Is there a brothel round here?"

"Sorry, mate, we don't have 'em."

"You must do, mate. All cab drivers know where there's a knocking shop."

"You're having a laugh..."

The sight of the best of British, with a generous helping of chilli sauce and vomit down his shirt, fills you with pride, and you wonder what kind of women he hopes to find.

"Well you'd better take me back to me guest house."

"Where are you staying?"


He holds up a key ring with two Yale keys and a plastic tag attached.

In the plastic tag is a piece of card with the words 'Room Six' on it.

"It's just down the that road on the left, mate."

Matey staggers off to his next letterbox.

Sherbet Trotter is a Cornwall-based taxi driver who writes books, films and songs and who gave that Rake bloke a lift the other day. We liked the cut of his jib so we immediately gave him a column.

Picture credit

Top and thumb: A kebab shop employee in action by Diego Delso, Wikimedia Commons, License CC-BY-SA 3.0.

For licensing information click the above link.

Share this story, yeah?


Didn't he do well?

bruce forsyth in 1980

The R&H doffs its cap to Bruce Forsyth, who departed for the Great Game Show in the Sky this past Friday (18/8/17).

Watch me rot

man to be buried with webcam

Dying Falmouth man to install webcam in coffin to let family watch body decompose online.

Hitler no match for Cornwall Council

Hitler no match for Cornwall Council

It's 1945 and Hitler faces his biggest test yet... Cornwall Council's Planning Department.