K8 the GR8

I worked my first day as a taxi-driver today.

My first customer was a really sound one armed-bloke from Los Angeles.  He is thinking about opening a Mexican restaraunt in Bray which I very verbally fully supported, as there aren’t many places you can find good chili around Wicklow.

I then had an airport run, so got to spazz around on the M50 for a while listening to my choons in the early springtime sunshine, so that was pretty nice. 

I’ll tell you what though, it’s nifty having a CB radio.  There was a quiet spell at 6 o’clock when I got to sit on my thumb and read the paper for a whole hour, and I got bored.  There was no chatter at all on the radio, Bray was dead.  Everyone must have decided to walk home I suppose.  I had to resist some serious temptation to press the button and tell a really dirty joke. 

Somebody dare me to do it.  Give me something really short but pee-inducingly funny to say on the CB and I’ll do it.  Go on, I know you have material.  Cough it up.