Fare Trade
“ Where to Guvnor?” asked the Taxi Driver looking out of his side window.
“ Merthyr Butt….three of us…how much?” asked the youngster dressed as Osama Bin Laden.
Glyn-Neath Taxi Driver, Bobby Boobie tried to get a measure of his would-be passengers.
It was 2.00am in the Morning and the Tara Club had been shut for over half an hour now where had these boys been until now?
He could see that one of them was propped up against the wall and wore a huge floppy Mexican sombrero covering his features.
It had been a quiet night on the rank and Boobie against his better judgement decided he would take a risk and offer these three lads a fare home.
“£80.00 to you Osama but I warn you that that there is a ‘no honk’ policy with my cab firm and if Speedy Gonzales over there is sick in the cab…there will be a further £100.00 clean up fee!” cautioned Bobby.
“ He’s fine…he is just a lightweight that’s all….fell asleep in Club…the dummy…not surprising it was HIS round too on the stag night and me and Donald Trump Junior here had to stump up for his beer!” said Osama.
In a flash, the Arab and USA President had lifted the ‘well oiled’ Mexican into the cab rear seat and positioned him with his head against the passenger side window, hat firmly down over his face to assist with his 20 mile ‘siesta’.
“ There is always one tight bastard isn’t there…!” said the Taxi Driver speaking from experience.
“ The one who is first out of the taxi and last into the pub and goes missing when it’s their round!” said Bobby….” I hate that kind of person don’t you?”
The Mexican grunted, almost as if he realised he was being spoken about behind his back even though it was in front of him.
“ They are out there….said Osama…lots of people trying to catch you!” he laughed evilly in costume character.
“ Especially me!”
Driver Bobby despite being a taxi-driver was no Fred Housego Mastermind Champion.
He led a simple life dominated only by the buzz and crackle of his cab radio.
As he looked into his rear-view mirror he laughed to himself.
What a story he would have to tell if any of his regulars asked him if he had ever picked up anyone famous.
They didn’t get much more famous than Osama Bin Laden and Donald Trump.
As they passed the link road to the Heads of the Valley A465 (T) they saw the now familiar site of McDonalds but tonight tied to the lamppost with a manacles and a ball and chain was a naked man.
“ Is that your Stag?” asked Bobby.
Two of the lads behind nodded sagely.
“ Bloody Hell no wonder she is marrying him with quarter-pounder!” laughed Bobby.
“ He was almost best man in a recent nudist wedding in Afghanistan boasted Trump.
Holding out his finger and thumb he announced to the designated Driver that he had ‘missed it by inches!”
Osama and Trump settled back into their seats for their high-speed journey up the Glyn-Neath Bank in the black Skoda Octavia –the new favoured car of the Hackney World.
“ It goes like a bomb Osama!” chuckled Bobby.
“ I never thought I would ever say that!”
“ Can you slow down a bit…I am a bit of a nervous passenger!” replied the President.
“ I thought you would be used to flying in Airforce One!” replied the Cabbie.
As they reached the Trump Tower Colliery site an overwhelming stench of a real ale beer fart drifted into the front of the cab.
“ Jesus Donald….Is that is one of your Top Trumps?” asked Bobby
“ Do you mind using THAT word!....it is offensive to us Muslims!” said Osama
“ Besides ….interjected Donald …that isn’t one of mine….it is a Taco Smell…!” said Trump.
“ Check under his pantaloons to make sure his foo-foo valve hasn’t gone!” ordered Bobby.
“ Foo-Foo Valve?” asked Osama.
“ What is that in English or Arabic?” he continued.
“The anal valve that distinguishes between gas and liquid !” replied Bobby.
Moving the shoulder belt of bullet cartridges that had been accidentally plugged into the seat belt holder , Bobby witnessed a tentative hand being pushed under the leather seat occupied by the Mexican.
“ Keep your eyes on the road….will you !” ordered Trump like he was in a CNN press-conference.
“ There is a £100.00 clean up fee if he defecates too!” warned Bobby looking concerned.
“ If I was you Trump…I would build a wall around that Mexican!”
“ In that case you better stop in the next lay-by for me to have a piss !” said Trump also now in character.
“ Why are there any Russian Prossies around?” asked Osama.
“ You want Aberdare Town Centre for that mate!” replied Bobby without looking up.
As the car pulled into the layby, Osama and Trump got out leaving the lifeless Mexican in the Cab.
“ What about him?” asked Bobby nervously.
“ He’s fine…I’ve been on 1001 Arabian Nights out with him and he has never pissed himself yet….whereas Trump here….he IS different!” boomed back Osama.
Trump nudged him for the insult and once again turned his weapon on the Middle Easterner farting loudly in his direction creating a new ‘Guff War!’.
Trump finished his urine stop but Osama kept going for nearly five whole minutes.
“ Hurry up!” asked Bobby threatening to turn on the cab meter if he didn’t end his Tower Shower.
“ Come on Sheik – shake the snake!” came the cry from President Trump, his sweaty orange face-paint leaking in rivulets down his Mount Rushmore from the inside of the cab.
All the while the Mexican was a silent witness to the shenanigans.
The Taxi pulled off from the layby with Bobby Booby this time singing in ‘Mrs Malaprop’ fashion ‘Iranian Men’ to the Geri Halliwell Hit – ‘It’s raining men’ on the radio.
The car sped up and then slowed down at the sign ‘Average Speed Camera’ on the A465 (T) section of the Heads of the Valleys Road which not been finished due to the triggering of Article 50 and Brexit from the European Union.
“ You’re going to have to stop again for me to have a piss again….pull in by the Old Baverstock’s roundabout will you!” demanded Osama of his taxi-driver hostage
“What are you….part camel or something?” asked Bobby once stopping against his better judgement.
“ This time it goes on the water meter!” he warned.
Osama jumped out and an arc of urine sprayed the Kingdom Hall sign.
“ They’ll fine you for that mind you….there were plenty of Jehovah’s Witnesses to that ‘Passover’….and you know how much the Israeli’s love you Arabs!
He jumped back in the cab, white muslin robe now partly stained yellow from the blowback.
At the summit where Snake Valley merged with Merthyr, all the lights twinkled on the homes in the Gurnos that were busy abstracting electricity.
In the distance could be seen the glowing red roofs of the houses in Galon Uchaf that had cannabis plants being cultivated in the roof space or Cash in the Attic as it was known locally.
“ Where in Merthyr are you going?” asked Bobby.
“ We are getting off in Whitebeam Close Gurnos whereas my tight arse Mexican friend here is paying for this trip after all its only fair as we have been buying his tequila all night!” said Trump.
“ He better have money!” threatened Bobby showing his knuckleduster worn for such late night special occasions.
Osama showed Bobby the square bulge in his trousers pocket.
“ More notes than Jose Mourinho in there mate….he only brings his magic wallet out as a last resort….last time there were three previously thought extinct species of moth found in its vicinity!” laughed the Arab.
Just before he got out close to the Penyfan View unmanned Police Station he handed the Taxi Driver a note.
“ His wife gave us this sticker with his address on as she knows what state he gets into when we end up paying for his beer!” said Trump.
It read ‘Lost- if Found please return to 96 High Street, Merthyr Tydfil CF47 8UD’
Unsure as to the location, he tapped it into his sat nav.
It was a genuine address.
As the pair disappeared into the night, Bobby took another glance in the rear view mirror.
The Mexican was still out for the count but he was no longer snoring or grunting.
Best get him home quick thought Bobby.
It’s His Wife’s problem then.
It was only a five minute ride from the Gurnos over the pot holes and uneven tarmac bumps of Brecon Road.
Reaching Pontmorlais the sat –navigation set to the voice of McCauley Culkin announced
‘You are now Home Alone!”
The street was silent and all he could see was a boarded up smashed window of a Lady’s Fashion shop of Manettes.
There was nothing else but Bobby assumed that there must be a first floor flat with access around the back.
“ Right then Zapata…that’ll be £80.00!” asked Bobby.
There was no response.
He repeated his demand.
His solitary passenger was silent.
He came around the back of the cab and opened the door that had been supporting the weight of the Mexican.
The sombrero covering his face fell off to see a white visage devoid of features.
He thought at first he had picked up Sophie Ellis- Bextor’s brother.
He reached inside the pocket of his ‘model’ passenger and found the square lump not to contain a wallet or money but a book entitled ‘Taxi Driving for Dummies!”
Not grasping the significance at first of the publication he subsequently flew into a rage.
“ That’s not a Fare Trade!” he screamed into the night.

updated by @philip-evans: 11/24/19 06:16:51PM