Wobbling precariously on my crutches after a family dinner in a local restaurant, I hailed the first cab in the rank.
He drove up, glanced at my plastered leg and drove straight off again shouting: "I don't take cripples. Your crutches might damage my paintwork!"
Anyone who thinks that British – well, London - standards of service are slipping should take a look at this. We’ve a way to go yet.