Traff-oriffic

I got a cab from London Bridge station home this evening. I was carrying lots of stuff, and the tube at rush hour didn't seem like a brilliant idea.

As I got into the cab, the driver was listening to a traffic report on the radio. Sensible enough - he was tuned into Capital FM, which gives regular update about London's traffic. Useful for a cabbie. All fine so far. The report ended. A popular music song started.

The cabbie switched radio channels. Perhaps he didn't like the work of the artiste exhibited. That's fair enough - his prerogative. He tuned into another radio station playing a traffic report. This time it was Radio 2. Fair enough. We listened to the national radio traffic report, and I learned there was a queue at Junction 23 on the M1. This is near my parents. I was interested enough, but not that interested. It's about 130 miles away, and I didn't think it would impact on Cambridge Heath Road.

Radio 2 started playing a song. The cabbie switched radio channels again - to yet another traffic report. It was at this point I realised. The driver was actually addicted to traffic reports, just like I am to Cadbury's Creme Eggs. As soon as one would finish, he'd start another - a chain traffic report user. Seemingly uncaring whether the report was for Kent or Newcastle, he'd flit between stations, desperate for his next hit.

I bet he's so much fun at home.

"How was your evening, darling?"

"Well, London traffic was same old, same old, but there was a terrible snarl up on the B359 near Worcester."

"Gosh darling, did you have a fare that took you all the way to Worcester?"

"Well, no. But according to Sally Traffic, the tailbacks were the worst since last Thursday's Pocklington roundabout fiasco."

"Darling, you've never been to Pocklington, have you?"

"No."

"Darling?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up."