Excerpt from my book, Taxi Diaries;
Chapter 35. Knackers.
Knackers, Travelling People, Gypsies, Tinkers, Pikeys, whatever you wish
to call them, but for this story I will call them by the common Cork phrase
of 'Knackers'.
(Which is defiantly not true as a Real Knacker-man is someone who collects
dead or dying animals from a farm, animals not fit for human consumption,
as they have not been slaughted properly, but only fit for dog-meat).
A great friend of my fathers and indeed a great friend of my own Jack
from Mogeely (R.I.P.) was a real Knacker man, my father Lawrence used
to call to him for dog-meat when myself and my brother Pat were young,
we were both only about 9 or 10 years old at the time, there were scores
of greyhounds running loose in his yard and many carcase's of dead cows
lying about the place to feed the dogs and all kinds of cows intestines
trailed about the place.
The stench of dead animals in the yard was unbearable at the start,
but after a few years you just got used to it. Myself and my brother's
favourite was the dead cows head in the big barrel of water and we
would poke it up and down with a stick to see the maggots appear on the
other side of the skull.
Jack was the original gentle giant, a hugh man and a bare-fist fighter in
his day, two hugh hands the size of garden spades, which were often laid
upon my head or across the back of my neck with unexpected tenderness.
I treasured his touch and I knew this hugh man would never wrong me.
That same hand that he patted me gently on the head with as a young boy,
was often used to put many a man bigger than me on the flat of his back
and had also been used with great strength and accuracy in the road
bowling championships of East Cork.
Once my father and my brother Pat called to Jack while I was in bed unwell
and Pat (about 10) wandered off into the yard on his own, a saucy greyhound
started growling at him and Pat froze, within a minute Pat was encircled by a
group of saucy greyhounds all growling and snarling at him.
My father and Jack were chatting in his living room, but Jack spotted what
was happening out in the yard through the window, he leapt from his seat
grabbed his shovel by the back door and ran toward the circle of dogs,
scattering them in an instant. I think another couple of minutes without the
Knacker mans intervention and my brothers number would have been up.
As the story would have it, once upon a time Big Jack was called out to a
lady farmers yard to take away and dispose of a live young heifer who had
broken both his back legs in a fall, the lady farmer asked of Jack,
"Do you have the new humane killer ?",
She was thinking of the most up-to-date shot in the head gun type thing.
Jack replied "Of course I have Mam"
and he continued to load the half dead beast on to his truck and then he
killed it with his own 'Humane killer', a blow of his sledge-hammer right
into the back of his Skull !
To continue with my original story,
after a brief insight into a real Knacker-mans world.
A Knackers wedding one Wednesday night in a city hotel;
The Knackers/Travelling people are very cute and they send in a well
spoken person to book their wedding's arrangements using a credit card,
he books the ballroom for the wedding party plus a few rooms for
overnight accommodation.
On the day the Knackers arrive in mass in Hiace vans with balloons flying
off them, the hotel staff let them in, as they are all paid for and all the
knackers are on their best behaviour throughout the meal and the dancing
afterwards, there is a bar extension until 1.30am and a residents bar till all
hours, the travelling community are all well inebriated by 1.30am.
The residents bar is cancelled and calm is far from their mind, the hotel staff
are trying to cajole them into waiting reluctant taxis.
I arrived to collect some customers at 1.30am and went into the hotel desk.
The Grandmother Knacker, whose arse looked like she has delivered
about 12 kids (which was a fair assumption) was haggling with the female
receptionist (a friend of mine) and she was threatening violence toward her,
but the security personnel, who were standing close by, did not intervene,
which I thought he should have, she was haggling very loudly and getting
way too close to the desk personnel. I work closely with these people and
we all look after each other, but the Drunk Grandmother knacker was way
too close to the receptionist for my liking, who was refusing her to be served
any more drink, eventually the gardai arrived and the grandmother knacker
was told "To get into my taxi or be taken to the Bridewell"
Eventually she was poured into my taxi and I headed for Sundays Well,
with Grandma Knacker telling me the wrongs of the world and all the
children that had died on her.
When we got to her home, all her windows were broken, so I helped her
out of the car and she looked through her broken front windows.
The house had been shredded inside, everything had been broken or
turned over and their was blood all over the windows and the doorframe
and blood on the white walls outside house, plus two squad cars and
a paddywagon waiting outside for her.
I returned to the hotel, as was my job.
At 2am this same night as I returned every knacker in the hotel was
shouting or fighting with another knacker and a load of young knackers
(under 10) were running wild around the place and Gardai everywhere.
Its all about Bull-shit,
The job is, get the Knackers in the car, get them home, GET PAID,
(ALWAYS the hard part !) and get away fast.
One fat ugly young knacker girl brought half a bottle of champagne home
with her in the taxi and spilt it on the floor in the back of the car, Bitch !!
And another hefty busty young knacker girl dressed in a turquoise bridesmaids
dress had no money to pay her fare, so she paid the fare with her gold watch
and promised to call to the base and pay the fare tomorrow in return for the
watch, which she did, Six weeks later !!
Some knackers are OK, some are not, but when they have drink in them,
they are all best avoided.
I collected this fare one night on McCurtain street at about 4am, a traveller
or rather a Knacker asking to go out to Mahon, I was playing my favourite
Akon C.D. and the Knacker was enjoying it too, he went on to tell me his
misses told him today that she was expecting twins and that he was
'Over the moon about it', and in general we had a decent bit of banter
along the 20 minute journey to Mahon, he directed me into the halting site
at the arse's end of Mahon and he exited the taxi, he started hugging fellas
who appeared out of nowhere, obviously they had heard the news about
the twins and that two more welfare recipients where heading their way.
I was now inside the halting site and I shouted over to my customer,
"How's about de fare, you owe me 16Euro",
the Knacker waved his hand in a kinda 'I'll be with you in a minute way',
so I waited a minute, new in the taxi game and not fully realising that
I was parked bang smack in the middle of a Halting site !
I shouted over to my Knacker,
"Are you gonna pay or wa, if ur not gonna pay, tell me and il fukc off ?"
he shouts back, "No, I'm not paying, Fukc off !".
My choices were limited. Should I get out and go after a Knacker inside
a halting site ? Or call the Gardai for a Sixteen Euro fare ?,
I'm sure they would give me a short answer, simple solution, drive away,
forget about it And Learn.
Another incident,
I collected Four knacker lads outside the Gate cinema on Bachelors Quay
one Tuesday night asking to go to Mallow, one lad paid Twenty-Five Euro
up front with coins, when we approached Mallow they changed their minds
and said 'Charlevillle', there was Fifty euro up on the meter, so I stopped
on the roundabout in Mallow and demanded more cash up front.
Eventually after much haggling I got another Twenty Five in coins again and
I told them "That's us square up to here, be another 30 or 40 to Charleville".
One big drunk lad in the back was threatening 'To beat de shite outta me,
if i didn't drive on soon', then that drunk knacker exited the cab,
and urinated in the middle of the road. I got tough with the other three
quieter lads while he was out and got another Fifteen euro off them in coins
and I agreed to drive on. When we got to Charleville the fare was 95euro
and I asked for the remaining Thirty, knowing that I wasn't gonna get it all,
but hoping for another Tenner or whatever, no joy, the four boys walked off
saying "Sorry sir, we have no more money" and still I could hear the coins
jingling in at least two of their pockets, wherever they got all the coins from ?
It was a Tuesdays night and I got 65 Euro off the boys, How bad !
Another incident saw me collect a middle aged knacker couple after a wedding
in a city hotel at 3am and asked to be brought to Fair hill, the man asked to go
for grub, they both seemed very respectable settled travellers, so I agreed.
We drove down St Patrick street to see all the food outlets closing,
Mc Donald's they refused to go in to, we eventually found a fast food restaurant
open on the Grand Parade, himself went in and I waited chatting with his wife,
a very pleasant lady, he arrives back out with two bags full of chicken & chips.
He keeps one box on his lap and hands the rest back to his wife, I politely say
"Don't have that now in the taxi, wait till you get home",
He nods, next I look and he has got half a chicken rammed into his gob and
she is having it away with a breast-in-the-bun in the back seat,
he exclaims "Ah, we're only having a quick nibble on the way home Sir",
I throw my eyes to heaven, sure tis spilt milk now anyway and I drive on quickly
for Fair hill, we arrive at their home. Mr Knacker exits and tells me of how big
a tip i'm gonna get for being so good to them, he roots out 8 Euro in coins for
a Sixteen Euro fare and shouts over to his wife, who is half-way into her home
for more money, she shouts back "Iv No money" and continues on her way,
Mr Knacker apologises to me and says
"I'm sorry Sir, i didn't realise the chips would cost so much",
as he closes the cab door and walks off in home, leaving a mess of chicken
bones and chips in both the front and back seats.
One last incident on a Saturday evening finished me with the knackers for ever.
It was a base job and a minibus was required, I was minding my mate Dinny's
minibus while he was on holidays. So I parked up my taxi and into his mini-bus
and away on to Greenhills court on the South Douglas road.
I collected two youths and a mother knacker plus Five elegant young ladies
at about 7pm, I gathered by their accents that they were knackers, we had a
few problems taking off, as a few of their younger relations kept opening the
doors and jumping in front of the van, eventually one of the lads in the front
jumped out of the van, he ran after the young mischief makers, catching one
and giving him a 'Good clip around the ear'.
We nearly got away but someone had forgotten one of their phones, so back
again to Greenhills court and again the same problems leaving. All phones in
order we headed on for a pub in Ovens, along the way they changed their minds
and asked to go to a pub in Lissarda, they asked did I know where it was ?
and I told them "Yea, sure, Lissarda is a few more miles up the road".
All was good, the craic was good, the two lads in the front chatted away to me
about cars, etc, and the girls in the back chatted about how they were going
out to celebrate their mother knackers first grand-daughters communion.
When we got to Lissarda, we pulled into the pub car-park, a charming little
country pub, in the middle-of-nowhere, the mother paid almost the full fare,
with one other lad contributing just a few coins.
They asked could they be brought home later for the same price, I agreed,
thinking that the toin'g & froin'g while leaving their home earlier would balance
off against the night time tarrif, which starts at 8pm, all was good, everyone
was happy, they were to ring the base again at about half past midnight,
but they would need two minibuses to bring them home as there were some
more lads inside the pub already.
I headed home doing one more job along the way. I decided to give the van
a good clean for later on and washed and polished it myself by hand.
I got a call from the base at 9.30pm saying my customers had requested me
to call back to Lissarda and bring them home.
To me this meant only one thing, they had been refused service and needed
a lift home, a second mini-bus was also ordered and as luck would have it the
taxi base office manager happened to be the only other mini-bus on the road
that night, he rang me shortly after, he asked me to pull in by Ovens and wait
for him so as we could arrive together and make it look more professional.
I told him about the set-fare I had set-up, just so as we would both be charging
the same and there would be no conflict afterwards.
I declined to tell him that they were Knackers, an ommision that I now regret,
I should have told him and given him the opportunity to decline the job if he
wished, I thought of the ommision as a bit of fun, how drunk could they be at
9.30pm ?, but it was far from Fun.
We met in Ovens and drove on together to Lissarda, when we arrived at the pub,
there was a car-park full of knackers, a squad car and two Gardai standing at the
door of the pub. I didnt need to ask any questions, I KNEW exactly what had
happened. The office manager loaded up his van including the mother knacker,
who really was a very lovely old lady and then almost all the rest of his customers
were lads. I loaded up my van, a middle aged couple sat up front, Joe and his
blonde wife, Four young lads and a young lady in the back.
I said to them before leaving about the fare home being the same as the fare up,
that was agreed and the blonde lady in the front asked "Did I want it now ?",
I casually remarked "Yea, dat be great", so I parked up and the lady started
collecting money from all over, notes and coins were flying everywhere.
I knew better than to take any of this and I kept well out of it.
After all the money was counted she had Three Fivers & Ten euro coins,
all had quitened down and I accepted the twenty Five Euro and left it to the
elder couple in front to secure the rest, as it went on, one fella had no money
cos his mammy had his money, Four of them had paid up between Ten and
Fifteen euro each swearing the truth on their dead parents or childrens graves
and Joe in the front had handed up Forty Euro, but we still had only Twenty
Five Euro in Cash !
The squad car came to my rescue seeing us still in the car-park, they pulled in
next to us, the guard asked me "Is everything OK" ?
I told him "I'm just trying to get the last of my fare before leaving".
Immediatly money starting appearing, but the guard wasn't for messing
and he went over and opened the side of the van and looked in.
I told the guard "I have my fare in full now and il take em away".
The guard came over to my window to check, he asked "You OK now ?"
I said "Yea, fine, no problems", we drove on for home, the boys in the back
were a bit rowdy most likely trying to impress the one young girl with them,
the older man Joe in the front trying to keep them quite and all haggling all
the way home about how much they individually paid and all swearing on
their childrens lives or their mothers lives, about how much they each paid.
If the sware's were true I would have recieved about One Hundred and
Thirty Euro, but what I actually got was exactly Fifty Four !
As were approaching home the boys were getting brave and someone lit up
a fag in the back, had they asked and were nice about it, I probably would
have allowed it, but they were not nice and they had taken to insulting me
about a bald spot on the back of my head, so I pulled in just after the Wilton
roundabout and demanded the cigarette be thrown out. I was met with the
usual knacker routine "No one smoking back here, Sir",
when I was happy that the fag was gone I drove on, again Joe in the front
trying to control the boys, while spluttering all over my arm and shirt.
One lad stood up in the back and started looking into the boot of the van, I saw
him in the rear view mirror and I roared at him "To sit down" immediatly,
it wasn't my van and I didn't know what was in the boot, but I didnt want
any knacker robbing whatever was in there.
I contemplated turning off for Togher garda station, but I reckoned I needed
more than a personal insult to make that move and I didnt fancy handing back
the fare that I had been paid in advance either.
As we turned back into the greenhills estate, after hearing a few threats of
"He is gonna take us where-ever we wanna go", the boys in the back started
kicking at the doors, I stopped the van and turned on them, of course no one
did it, as usual, brave knackers that they are.
Then some fella flicked my ear from behind, I stopped again,
"That's it Lads, Fukc off, i'm going no further".
Someone opened the back door and the lights came on in the back of the van,
all of the five back inside windows of the van were covered in spit, I mean
covered in spit, all five inside back windows, they must have been spitting on
the windows quietly the whole way home, they also tore out a partition of the
roof and ripped out the back ashtrays.
Joe in the front and his wife were appalled, the both of them made an effort
to clean the van with newspapers, the Five Sneaks in the back cowered off
into the shadows. One young lad came back and offered his hand in apology,
it was the first hand I had ever Refused to shake in my life.
The other driver pulled in behind me, he went on to tell similar tales stating
"That only for the Mother being with me, no way would I have got paid",
and he told me that he had been threatened regurarly with having his throath
cut along the way home.
Appauling situations to work in and my fault for luring my work colleague into
such a situation that I thought I could handle.
From there I went to the car-park by my home, not far from where I dropped
them off and got a basin of hot water and washing-up liquid and entirely
scrubbed the inside of Din's van, My colleague joined me in the car-park
while I was cleaning exclaiming "How lucky we were to have been paid".
That was not the way I saw it, for me I was disgusted at what they had done
to my friends van and cross with myself for putting my colleague in jeporady
for the sake of a prank.
I showered myself and changed all my clothes. I did one more job in the van
before the smell of knacker saliva got to me and I parked the minibus and
returned to my own regular taxi for the rest of the night.
I washed and cleaned my mates van a second time the next day.
Knackers are fine by day when they are sober.
I'v had many good friends throughout the years from the travelling community,
but give them a few drinks and its a 'Different kettle of fish'.
That's the end of me and the Knackers/Pikeys/Travelling people in my taxi
Drunk late at night. Never again.
If you are of the Politically Correct opinion that all travelling people should be
treated as equals, then you are most welcome to take my cab and cruise the
Ringmahon strand area on a Friday or Saturday night.
Driver pays the Damages & Cleans the car.
I expect No Replies.
