Last night I played a gig in a newly re-furbished, but for ever sad pub. Owned by a Cuban man, and staffed only by a girl with almost comedically sized breasts. I was served cans of cider several times by an Irish man with worried eyes, but, at the end of the night, when I asked where he was, so I could take a picture of him, I was told that he didn't work there, and had left before we played our set.

I then took two of a friend's Oxycodone derived, back pain medication, and drank more alcohol. I projectile vomited several times in the night, and then woke up and vomited until there was nothing coming out but bile and rotten air.

By the time I took a shit, I was simply happy to be able to sit upright and was grateful that the turd contained no blood.

I then watched the television while I read, 'A Wild Sheep Chase' by Haruki Murakami. The book has many interesting sections, but what struck me today was the chauffeur, who though not integral to the story, does spend a few chapters discussing both ideas relevant to the narrative, and seemingly abstract ideas with the main character.

While my Grandad was dying in the summer of 2007, I was trying to write a book about an amputee being chased by her ex-lover and an omniscient taxi driver. There is a common idea, in both fiction and reality, that those who drive people around for money have some sort of hyper-extended knowledge, reaching far beyond that of, say, a lorry driver's, who drives a lot, or a policeman, who walks the streets of a city more than most.

The ambiguity of a taxi-driver's assumed knowledge probably comes from their ability to know where they should be going. One of the few reasons to take a taxi is that the responsibility for where you are going is handed over to someone else. This person necessarily knows where you are going, hopefully more so than you.

Maybe the ambiguous nature of the job adds to this mystique. The hours spent reading or thinking as they wait for their fares. The oddness of being in the same place, but in constant movement. Also, an idea of Zen or existentialist living, i.e. journey being as important as destination.

Also, you rarely see a taxi-driver/chauffeur's face. Though with mini-cabs (rather than Hackney carriages), you often sit in the front seat. Maybe that is why mini-cab drivers are more likely to be characterized as idiots in fiction and in anecdotal reality.

This unknowing of a person immediately places them in a position of power, and power is equated with knowledge in what I would say is a logical fallacy. Knowledge itself is powerful, but a powerful position is not necessarily knowledgeable.

Omniscience is one of the characteristics of God in all mono-theistic religions. In Christianity, God is also held to be benevolent, though rather quiet when it comes to the dispensation of knowledge. Absolute truth (which must be held by an omniscient being) must therefore not be seen as essential to happiness (at least, earthly happiness). God is in the strange position of being omniscient, but unable to share her knowledge.

So, from this we can observe that the taxi driver's ability to share completely irrelevant or absurd opinions, (e.g. on race based prejudice or the British tax system) rather than concrete truths (e.g. how much the journey might cost, or why they seem to be driving away from your stated destination) can be seen as an essential feature of their God like omniscience, rather than a proof that they have little, if any knowledge at all.