I took a £10 hit on a fare to help a homeless man get his medication from a late night pharmacy. Good deed done. Karmically, I’m not sure what went wrong… later in the night I had to evict 4 obnoxious students from my cab, having already warned them once about their behaviour. I returned to the UEA and someone spat on my driver side window. Already riled from the obnoxious lads, it was indeed fortuitous that I didn’t see who did it.

I returned to the city to witness the aftermath of a mass brawl, and my subsequent passengers embedded chewing gum into my back seat. This was spotted by my next passenger, a lovely gay man, who asked me how my night had been, and was most sympathetic as I recounted the events.

“It’s so nice to have a taxi driver who isn’t moody,” he said. “You’re clearly a positive person, because even after all that, you’re not moody.”

This was true. We carried on chatting.

“It could be worse,” he continued. “I’m wearing a pair of £60 jeans, and I decided to do a slut drop on the dance floor. I must have put on some weight, because when I did it, the crotch seam split open. My Mum had already sewed them up once, but hadn’t reinforced them. How do you tell your Mum that you need the crotch reinforced in case you decide to do a slut drop?”

It’s passengers like him who help revive a flagging evening.