Permanently on message. Well, his message. When he’s
working. Driving his cab.
Can you read what the sign propped up on his dashboard says? Read those three words?
If you need a hand with them, here are they are.
Totally Failing London.
I think you could say he’s not gruntled.
Spotted him yesterday in Curzon Street in Mayfair. One of the endless sources of joy in London is the stuff you see, the incidentals.
Yeah and for sure, I asked him about it. Because it’s – well, not very but at least a little bit – cryptic.
“Your sign, can you elaborate?”
“The system.”
“You mean London – the whole system – it’s not working, coming unstuck?”
“You got it mate.”
Well, that’s his view. And he’s probably right in lots of ways. Though I expect hasn’t acquired the sort of perspective he’d have on his town if he’d had a season or two of driving a cab in Jakarta or Lagos.
C’est tout.
Except this. There are four words you ain’t never gonna hear from this cabbie, this Londoner.
“Have a nice day.”
And since I’m not a big fan of the saccharine or the insincere or the robotic, well, I’ll take it. Thank you Lord God for small mercies.
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