Thursday, August 26, 2010

Madness on a meter

Not that I'm famed for my affable nature, but there is one twisted breed of human that I truly cannot stand.... The taxi man. (I specify 'man' because I have only ever had two lady drivers and both were blissfully silent - and therefore, lovely). 

In case you think me one-sided, I did used to also hate their female counterparts, the hairdressers. Luckily, I've since discovered a massively overpriced and aggressive stylist who only speaks to me in clipped Polish to humiliate me over the state of my hair. I love her. 

I can grind my teeth and listen to thinly disguised racism, regulatory-induced self pity and even batted away blatant nosiness (I've been asked everything from how much I paid for my house to if I was laid the night before -needless to say I made a swift exit from that cab).

Yesterday, however, was a new low. 

Already not in great form, I hopped in a taxi to take me to a photo shoot in Finglas. I should have spotted the number one sign of the crazies, the twitch. Luckily, I was in the backseat and avoided the wild eyed stare. 

He tried to laser-eye me through the rear view mirror, but I've been in a cab or two before.

However, this guy was a pro. 
No amount of 'mmm hmmm' answers could put him off his diatribe. He muttered about Georgian doors, shouted about "the old village" and thought a woman on a bike was hilarious. I cowered in the back seat, shades on as a pathetic defense against his madness, and prayed for the journey to end. I even tried battling my inner politeness and outright ignoring him (hard thing when you're in a confined space with a mentaller), but to no avail. I was seconds away from writing SOS messages and flinging them out the window when we arrived. The streets of gangster riddled Dublin have never seemed so welcoming; I almost kissed the path that I alighted to. 

Only to remember that I also had to get a taxi back home...

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Rich, Richard, Dick

I always thought that I'd agree with the kindly, vaguely Grandad-looking Richard Dawkins. I mean, all the cool kids like him. He practices a unique kind of polite fearlessness in the face of some very nutty people. But last night I paid attention - properly - to one of his shows. 
'Faith School Menace?' depicted believers as people who deserve his smirking condescension and opened my eyes to the extremism associated not only with faith, but with atheism. Absolutists of any ilk scare me, and I had to switch off half way through due to blind fury at the arrogance of Dawkins. 
Sweeping statements, mockery and a complete absence of respect for those who do happen to - gasp! - believe in a higher power have put me off the hitherto respected scientist. 
I am certainly not preaching for creationism, and I avoid religion as much as the next Irish person, but woe betide anyone who is not 100% behind our Richard. 
So much for the cool kids.