After giving the Merlot a bashing, my wife retired to bed defeated around 22.10.
At 23.20, her mobile rang, I picked it up, and DAD MOBILE was displayed on the screen, he’s staying for the Christmas period, and had gone out for a drink with his son, who’s staying nearby at his daughter’s place.
I didn’t go, all they talk about is darts and Millwall, and I can’t join in a conversation like that.
They were obviously still in a pub, The Mavericks were belting out “Dance the night away” in the background, loudly.
Her dad said, “I know your address, but what’s the postcode, I need it to get a minicab home.”
I told him, but he said that he couldn’t hear me over the music, so he passed the phone to my BIL, who also said that he couldn’t hear me.
I shouted, “Where are you?”, he mouthed ‘Tower Bridge Road.’
I shouted, “Go out and flag a Black Cab, they don’t need post codes, they’ll know my road.”
“I ain’t paying their prices”, it sounded like he said.
So, as I’m a retired Black Cab driver, I shouted, “Then ****ing walk home!”
I relented, and WhatsApped our postcode to his phone.
He arrived some 20 minutes ago, bitterly complaining that he was charged £19, and gave the driver £20, I did the same distance Sunday night, £8.80 in a Black Cab, and gave the driver a tenner.
Will they ever learn?