I have a theory about Belfast black taxi drivers. Whereas in the city of London they have to pass a test called The Knowledge to gain their mini cab licence, in Belfast I reckon they are tested on the calibre of their joke repertoire before they’re handed the keys.
This explains why every journey in the city centre usually clocks up a laugh a minute. Here’s an example, from last Wednesday and a half mile/five minute journey from Central Station to The Black Box.
Taxi Driver: “Did you read that story in the Belfast Telegraph today about the woman who was in court for shoplifting?
“She had been stopped with a tin of peaches in her bag on the way out of Tesco’s. The judge says to her ‘How many peaches do you estimate were in the said tin?’
“The woman replies ‘Six your honour.’ ‘Well, in that case, I hereby sentence you to six months in prison, one month for every peach that you stole.’
“Now the woman’s husband is standing in the dock and he raises his hand: “Excuse me, your honour, but she also stole a tin of peas.”