1st September 2011

Went shopping today to find something to wear to Guy1’s dinner party – the very one that I now have reservations about given the onslaught of BBMs opinion last night.

It was a bit rainy so I jumped into a cab outside my flat to take me to Selfridges.  The cab had all the appearance of being quite normal – it was the right shape, it was black, sported four wheels in all the right places and it had some ads on the outside. 

Inside though was like an alternate taxi universe.  A version of Giant Haystacks was driving the cab, crow-barred in behind the wheel. So it was a bit unnerving when he spoke to me in a very gentle lady-voice.  The voice and body were a disturbing mis-match. 

Now I can’t be arsed talking to taxi drivers at the best of times, but a conversation in this cab was always going to be a total non-starter.  So I feigned some busy executive-like phonecalls, and ten quiet minutes later, I’m getting my money out to pay and then the shit hits the fan. 

Giant Haystacks Taximan drops the following conversational turd.

“People like you and me, we’re lucky cos when the Martian’s arrive on earth they’re going to eat all the skinny people first”

I wish, to fuck, I were kidding.  

Firstly, I’m pretty sure Heidi Klum won’t be lending me her clothes any day soon, but by the same token I am not entirely enthusiastic about being included by this guy in his fatclub.  He was a moving mountain, I eat too many Wispas....there’s a difference.

Secondly. Its Rubenesque goddammit.  Big arse, bouncy boobs.  No wrestling.  No unitards.  No half-nelsons. (excepting occasionally the kind that inadvertently happens when changing positions while trying to keep genetic connections intact). 

And finally – Martians, seriously?  Who the fuck gets to drive black cabs these days?!