July 2012
'Guess what, Maggie, I had The Duke of Edinburgh in my cab this morning. He was quite chatty; told me he was in one of his clubs, having a quick snifter; his chauffer and staff were supposed to be waiting outside, but they had been involved in some sort of accident. They contacted the club, of course, but . . . you know Philip; said, 'I'm off.' Came out and spotted me. Jumped in and just said, 'The Palace – pronto, old son.'
'Trying to be funny (as I thought), 'Would that be the theatre in Victoria?' I joked.'
''Just keep driving, sunshine!' he grunted.
'When we got to the palace, the security guards nearly had a fit – thought it was either a terrorist plot or a student prank. In very bad taste of course; but after much raising of voices and mention of the Tower of London, we were allowed into the hallowed grounds. I was expecting what came next: 'Got no money, my man. Never carry any. But you just ring up the switchboard and they'll see you O.K.'
'Well, after that bit of excitement I took myself off to the cab shelter on the Embankment for a spot of 'heart attack' lunch. (I needed to un-wind a bit as you can imagine.)
'Anyway . . . after a while I thought I would pop across to the stand outside Charing Cross station – things are usually lively there, early afternoon. Now, you ain't going to believe this, but who should come up to me but Prince William . . . himself! . . . trying to appear casual. I says, of course, 'Where to, guv?'
''O.K.' he says, 'You're right – no need to call me sir or any of that stuff – I am one of the boys really.' Well, it turns out he had been guest of honour at some do in the hotel, but got a bit bored, and, giving his body-guards the slip, nipped out through a side door.
''Now, this is just between you and me, mate – and there's a good drink in it for you, OK? – I've heard about this hot new club just off Soho – Earl Street I think'
'I know sir, sorry, guv. You just keep down low and we'll get there without any bother.'
'When we gets there the door staff were all cheery smiles, 'Hi, Wills – wasn't expecting you till Thursday. Usual table?' (so it wasn't all that new!)
'Anyway, usual thing, he gives me his private secretary's card and on the back he writes: 'Tom, look after this geezer, there's a good chap.' So I knew I'd be OK.'
'Er . . . George . . . me and Mary have been having a little chat . . . about things.'
'Oh, alright – what things may they be?'
'Well – it's about these famous people you keep meeting. I mean apart from The Duke and Prince William; last week it was Betty Grable – and she's been dead for ages – and President Obama. Hardly think he would swop his armour-plated super-car for your old cab, do you? The thing is, don't you think it might all be in your imagination – or at least a case of mistaken identity?'
'Well, Maggie, I know my brain ain't all it used to be, but I don't see how it could be mistaken identity. You know I always wear my licensed Cabby badge; so they must all see I'm the real thing.'