Corrupt cops are good cops.

When I first arrived in Melbourne from overseas, I was dropped off at my new World HQ one rainy March afternoon, by a cabbie.

He didn't reply when I got in and said hello, and didn't speak a word the whole 20 minute drive. He also didn't look anything like the picture on his dash-mounted I.D. card. What he did do was unceremoniously dump my bag into the gutter once we arrived, so I had to chase it as it washed down the street. My iPod was ruined. "Maybe it was a one-off" I thought.

Yeah, right.

Since then I have heard so many stories of cabbies ripping off drunken passengers, trying to fuck my hot friends for a reduced fare, and the ever-popular 'eftpos machine that mysteriously stops working the second you arrive at your destination', that I have pretty much decided that all cabbies are ass-rapers.

I can't ride anywhere on my pimped-out custom chopper, without little yellow road-maggots opening their doors (and breaking my left leg), pulling illegal u-turns without warning (sending me over my apehangers), and of course, standing around all up in the cycle lane as if the sole reason the council spent millions of dollars putting them in everywhere, was so they could have a place to engage in various un-Australian activities.

Whatever happened to silver-haired and overweight Teddy Boys called Bruce, who would subject you to a constant barrage of foul language and highlights from the racing? Where did they go? Remember the days when you'd get in a cab, and the driver knew exactly how to get you to wherever you wanted to go, without making you show them in the Melways? And what about those legends of the roadway, who could not only take you to the best brothel for your pay-rate, but also recommend the kind of girl you were after? Those days are gone, my friend.

Now, if you want a brothel, you'll get a sharp-tongued lecture on the evils of fornication, from a guy called El-Haj, who may or may not be the registered driver for this cab. You will get this, while he does his best to convince you the fastest way to get to St Kilda from Prahran is via Byron bay.

I've tried to punch on with a few of them, just to "take the pressure down", as Farnsey Farnham so sagely advised, but it's no use. There is not one taxi driver in the entire State of Victoria who knows how to fight, let alone one who is actually willing to give it a shot. They tend to favour acting tough until the heat is on, then calling out for the cops. In the end you get so wound up and aggravated trying to pull them out of their cars for a beat-down, that you're nothing short of relieved to see groups of tanked-up British backpackers spilling out of the nearest Irish pub, looking for action. You can say what you like about Poms, but let no-one accuse them of nancying their way out of a smackdown. National pride is at stake, and they know it.

I talked to the cops too, to see what they thought of the fact that taxi drivers, for the most part, don't know how to operate a motor vehicle. They relayed to me their intense disappointment at the fact they are stretched so thin already, and that they simply do not have the time to run around after taxi drivers. Apparently, the Police Service would have to be "60-gazillion times bigger", just to cope with the extra workload. All of the cops I spoke to agreed that taxi drivers are the absolute scum of the earth, and some went so far as to say they hate them so much, that they ignore any calls for assistance they receive from cabbies.

Normally, this kind of admission would infuriate me beyond belief, that the Police would actually withhold protection from a group of people they simply don't like!? But seeing as it's a group of people I don't like either, I decided to let it ride this time.

Not only did I decide to let it ride, I decided to take the Police's unofficial position as carte-blanche to wage a one-man war on Melbourne's cabbies. If the cops don't care...you just can't buy that kind of opportunity (unless you live in Queensland.) Game on!

First Mission- Operation Shappelle Corby.

As the name suggests, this mission involved setting up someone for a big illegal narcotics takedown, only this time it wasn't going to be a hot beauty school student from the Gold Coast. I don't take drugs myself, but I do live next door to the biggest crack-house on the Eastern seaboard. In order to secure the illegal narcotics in question, I simply jumped the fence while they were having a full-moon bonfire party, and asked them to give me some pot. It was 4am, and they were all feeling more than a little generous, so this was unbelievably easy. The next step was to take the bag of goodies down to Swanston Street, and while Raj was chatting to his friends in the middle of the cycle lane (forcing all hapless passing cyclists under an approaching tram), to empty the contents all over the passenger seat through the open window. This being done, I made an anonymous call to crime stoppers, all about the taxi driver who tried to sell me drugs from his car across the street. Then sat back and enjoyed the show as eight of Melbourne's finest slammed the cabbie over his bonnet and cuffed his ass. One down, 6000 to go!

Second Mission- Operation PABX.

Back in the early days of hacking, Melbourne was home to some of the worlds best phone phreakers. So it was in the spirit of nerds everywhere that I took a nonviolent approach, and used pure brain power to bring down the enemy forces. Using the photocopier at the North Melbourne Public Library, and some adheisive sheets from Officeworks, I made me some stickers that said "How's my driving?" with the phone number for a cab company on them, and stuck them on the bumpers of as many cabs as I could find between the city and South Yarra. You would not believe how easy this is, as cab drivers never pay any attention whatsoever to anything that is happening around them, even when they are parked. The cab company got so many calls of complaint within half an hour, they sent out a radio call for all drivers to check their bumpers, as their phone lines were overloading with angry road users. I just wish I had vinyl stickers, coz these ones came off real easy. All of this was fine so far, but as anyone who has read Sun-Tzu knows, the best way to defeat your enemy, is on the battlefield of the mind. Which brings me to...

Third Mission- Operation Mindcrime.

Let's face it, waiting for the law to help is like watching paint dry, only, it's the kind of theoretical paint that never dries, and if it's possible, only gets wetter and wetter, and more and more opaque. So what do we do? We make our own laws! Who cares if they're not real, cabbies don't need to know, do they? This mission was my favourite. It took some time, and some effort, but the end result worked a treat. Cabbies standing in the cycle lane is my absolute hate of hates. So I made a couple of road signs out of steel and reflective vinyl tape, that read "Police now targeting TAXI DRIVERS STANDING IN CYCLE LANES", and put one at the bottom of Swanston Street, and one at the Arts Centre taxi rank. Oh my God, it was beautiful! Not only did the cabbies get paranoid, and believe they were under scrutiny from the 5-0, but the Police saw the signs too, and just figured that's what they were meant to be doing! Result- every last cabbie sat in their cars all damn night, and cyclists everywhere got to ride in relative safety for once. It was awesome. But I had to see how far I could push the envelope. I'm an extreme guy.

Fourth (and final) Mission- Operation Xenophobia.

Has anyone else noticed the fact that 9 out of every 10 cabbies is from India or Sri Lanka nowadays? I have nothing against Indians, or Sri Lankans, but I do have a universal red mist of hatred for people who can't drive, but still hang out on the roads all damn day. And in this case, 90% of them are Indian or Sri Lankan. So with these startling statistics in mind, I made some new road signs. "Police now targeting HINDUS IN YELLOW FORDS", "Police now targeting TAMIL RESISTANCE FIGHTERS", and "Police now targeting ANYONE WHO EATS CURRY AND WORSHIPS VISHNU". At worst, I figured the council would open its doors to a few irate phone calls from community groups first thing in the morning, and send a crew out with some boltcutters and a stepladder. But it never got that far. All three signs were ripped down by enraged taxi drivers, withing 5 minutes of their erection. One point to the cabbies...it took me about four hours to make each sign look convincing. But I definitely won the war, as I took down the I.D. number off the side of each cab involved, so I can do an Operation Shappelle Corby on them next time I can score some free pot from the hippies next door. Vishnu must have been hella proud of his troops.

I am currently seeking sponsorship, so I can get in taxis in the middle of the night, stare menacingly at the drivers, and simply leave without paying. If i can do this for a full-time job, I'm pretty sure i can scare at least 78% of cabbies into another profession, like working at a 7-11. It is a well known fact that no cyclists have ever been harmed in any way by a convenience store operator.

So help me out, and pledge me some money. The only way to shake up the system is with menacing and law breaking, and you know it!

Send all donations to *'Taxiwatch, PO BOX 666, Melbourne 3000'. Phone enquiries: 7623-624468.



*Please don't actually send any money or call, this isn't actually real, numb nuts.


This is knifey, from 'the internet'.