Black cabs – they’re a symbol of safety - News - Evening Standard
       

Black cabs – they’re a symbol of safety

Awful to open the papers to read about John Worboys, the black cab driver guilty of hundred of rapes and assaults on women. All the times I've said to my daughter when she was travelling home late, "Don't get in a minicab, whatever you do, get a proper taxi," thinking she'd be all right and now? Well, I'm determined this isn't going to change a thing.

Whatever Worboys did, it will still be glad confident evening again for all women across the capital. Of course, his violent, pervy career was terrible. But it was so much worse to read the reaction of some women who wrote pieces saying that the black cab - symbol of safety on London streets - could no longer be a port in the storm for women alone, late at night.

I find this incredibly irresponsible. The truth is, if the police had appealed to all the black-cab drivers for help, it is likely that Worboys would have been caught years ago. Given the alternatives - drunken drivers, unlicensed minicabs, night buses, long walks in unlit streets - it would be a catastrophe if this sick loser caused even one woman to avoid taking black cabs.

Black cabs are one of London's top brands. Black cabs are brilliant. They are safe and recognisable. Cabbies always know where they're going, and are the only men I know who can make my day by calling me blossom. They need our fares and our faith in their trade. Taxi!

* Has thuddingly literal US-style advertising (Take Advil! It works!) come to London? Reason I ask - the cabs that are currently cruising about advertising a special type of flatulence pants called Shreddies. Now I know more than I need to about package enhancement, odour filtration and scrotal - am I allowed to say this? - support. Still, the direct approach works. Ordering mine now.

* This last spot is reserved for totty and, therefore, who better to drool over than French rugby's Sebastien Chabal? I don't know what it is about this beardie's Cro-Magnon brow, whipping manlocks and taut thighs straining against the combined weight of the entire England team but whenever I see him I get a terrible "You Tarzan, Me Jane" rush and feel like crawling back into the cave, clad only in a fur loincloth. It's odd that he's had to channel a look fashionable at about the time that men ran with mammoths to achieve this devastating effect but, frankly, we women don't care. The Caveman. He's just so hot right now.

Comments

Don't Miss
Rock star: Erin Wasson

Rock star

Erin Wasson is the ultimate anti-supermodel
Maybe it’s because she’s a Londoner … Happy anniversary, Ma’am

Happy anniversary

The monarchy has become stronger and more respected in the past 60 years
Victoria Coren: My obsession with children, five proposals a week and why David and I are no power couple

Victoria Coren

David Mitchell and I are no power couple
The Royal Academy of Arts Summer Exhibition preview party

Summer party

Stars at the The Royal Academy of Arts
London gets ready for the Diamond Jubilee - in pictures

Diamond Jubilee

London gets ready - in pictures
The Glamour Awards - stars turn on the style

Glamour Awards

Stars turn on the style
Duchess of Cambridge is pretty in pink at her first Buckingham Palace garden party

Garden party

Duchess of Cambridge is pretty in pink
FIRST review of Ridley Scott's latest sci-fi blockbuster Prometheus

First review

Is Ridley Scott's Prometheus any good?
Fair-weather goths

Fair-weather goths

The sultry shades of summer darks are coming out of the shadows
Dog save the Queen: Corgis surge in popularity

Dog save the Queen

Corgis surge in popularity