I lived in Oz some twenty-odd years ago, and Christ on a bike, the taxis then were hideous. To the extent that every night-out required someone to stay mostly sober to deal with the inarticulate, innumerate, and cartographically-challenged excuse for a taxi driver and ensure we all got home safely.
It was a work-visa thing to get family members into the country. I mean, hey, anyone can drive, right?
Biting the hand that feeds IT
