Westmoreland St, 12.34 a.m:

Man approaches taxi, having narrowly missed nitelink. Man tentatively opens taxi door, aware of the potential pandora's box of irrational and vehemently expressed opinion he may be unleashing. Man enters taxi, stating his destination.

Driver: So are you in work tomorrow?
Passenger: (relieved at ostensibly innocuous nature of driver's opening gambit) No, day off. I'm in college.
Driver: What are ye studyin'?
Passenger: (becoming aware of potential difficulties ahead, considers lying but then blurts out truth):Eh...journalism.
Driver: Aw Jaysus, you're not serious? Sure, they just tell lies, that lot.
Passenger: (sighing inwardly) Well, some of them do. A lot don't.
Driver: Ah now, bud, I don't know about that. What you lot should be doin' is exposin' corruption in the guards.
Passenger: Em, I think there was a story about that fairly recently. In Donegal...
Driver: The tip of the iceberg, bud. Those boys are up to their necks in it. It's all covered up.
Passenger: Well, there are a lot of cover-ups, I'm sure.
Driver: It's a conspiracy, that's why.
Passenger: (becoming alarmed, checks to see if doors are locked) Really?
Driver: When people go to court, right, they have to swear on the bible. I was in court meself last week. Only as a witness, of course. So you swear on the bible. In the Book of Revelations it says the number of the beast is 666, right?
Passenger: (visibly frightened, gives serious consideration to fleeing the vehicle at next traffic lights) Yes, I've heard that.
Driver: And the guards, right, they're in court givin' evidence. What are the first three digits of Dublin cop shops' phone numbers?(pregnant pause) That's right, bud: 666. Now why is that?
Passenger: Hmm, eh...So you're basically saying the Dublin Gardaí are engaged in some kind of satanic conspiracy and that their phone numbers are a manifestation of this?
Driver: Absofuckinlutely, bud. Now, there's a story for you.
Passenger: Hmm, well, I'll certainly keep it in mind.