Fuck me, Melbourne cab drivers, get your shit together…

Earlier in the year I was catching cabs fairly regularly from Southern Cross Station after disembarking the Skybus (a.k.a. the Tasmanian ex-pat shuttle) from Tullamarine airport into the city. I was exposed to a number of cab drivers during this time, all of whom (as a new resident of Melbourne with absolutely no idea where I was fucking going) I had to explain specifically where my house was to, despite it being only a stone’s throw from Lygon Street, one of the city’s most well-known streets, known as the spiritual home of overpriced, sub-par pasta restaurants and lease-financed Italian supercars.

If you don’t believe me, go for a casual stroll down Lygon Street after the F1 Grand Prix at about 8pm that evening. It’s like all the world’s biggest douchebags decide to gather together in one spot once per year and celebrate their unbridled douchebaggery by revving the engines on their base model, 100% financed Ferrari F430s with half of their bodies hanging outside of their cars while over-made-up women in their mid-to-late-30s fawn over them from the al-fresco dining areas littering the footpaths. It’s close to man at his most base (a man alone in a hotel room is man at truly his most base…)

Get in, shut up, hold on.

Anyway, back to cabbies. It’s absolutely ridiculous that I should have to tell one of them where to drive when that’s essentially their job to know where the fuck they are and where they’re going. To draw a parallel, you don’t tell a chef how to cook a fucking steak, so why should I have to tell a cab driver where to drive his fucking car?

Realistically, aside from the very real possibility of getting mugged, being viciously assaulted, sometimes stabbed and/or killed, being a cabbie isn’t really that hard, is it? I mean, fuck, I can drive, is it that much harder to drive with a passenger on the back seat?

That’s a rhetorical question, of course it fucking isn’t…

The other thing I really enjoy (hate) about travelling in cabs in the drivers’ incessant use of their mobile phone while driving. Now, you would think, considering the amount of driving that they do, cabbies would be more inclined to abide by the law for fear of losing their ability to lose their primary source of income.


Not only do cabbies love to jaw off to their mates while they’re meant to be focussing on the myriad of hazards littering Melbourne city streets, they also enjoy merging into traffic unexpectedly without indicating, speeding through city streets (70 in a 50 zone par for the course) and driving unnecessarily close to parked cars for no reason whatsoever.

Next time you see a cab driver while driving, mouth the words ‘fuck off’ at them through your car window.

There’s an 80% chance they deserve it.

/end communication