We love to slag off taxi drivers for being unable to drive, unable to find major landmarks, and unable to speak English. I’ve done it. But honestly try to put yourself into the shoes of a Melbourne taxi driver and understand just how utterly shithouse the job would be. First there’s the pay.

[T]he driver, having split his fares 50/50 with the operator, will earn $8.50 an hour after tax and GST. For the shorter version of a standard 60 to 80-hour week, for full-time cabbies that’s $450. Hardly a rich reward.

That’s when you’re even getting paid the fare.

Three weeks ago, my driver was affable Ranji Mullick, from India’s Punjab, who said, “I’ve had a good run,” before checking himself. “Well, I’ve had two runners, the last one a woman in her 20s, who I drove from Chapel Street (Prahran) to a block of flats in Kensington. She got out, went into the flats to get money to pay me and, of course, I didn’t see her again.”

Plus you have to question whether the paltry coin makes up for the risks.

TAXI driver Praboj Rhani heard the racist insult on a Saturday night, about the same time his shoulders became footrests for one of the three young men in the back seat.

Mr Rhani had collected his passengers in King Street just before midnight, about the time pubs and nightclubs start disgorging the first of their well-tanked clientele. “Drive us to Sunshine West, brown c—,” he was instructed.

As the invective flowed, Mr Rhani, from Rawalpindi in Pakistan’s west, knew he’d be doing no such thing, and pulled over. His firm “Please leave my cab” was met with “Make us, c—”.

So where are the police when passengers get abusive and threaten violence? Oh, that’s right. Victoria’s finest aren’t really the finest.

[Rhani] got out and was met on the pavement by a young policeman, who asked him what the problem was. “My passengers are abusing me, sir, and I don’t want to carry them. This is a dangerous thing, I don’t want to be involved with them.”

Mr Rhani said his entreaties and the policeman’s command to “get back in and drive the cab, you’re a taxi driver, take them to where they want to go” became repetitive. Finally, the policeman became impatient and said: “Get back in the cab and drive the f—ing thing.”

To protect and to serve. Apparently.

Of course, Premier John Brumby has the power to, you know, make laws that increase the safety for taxi drivers and the quality of taxi services but he’s just employing the tactic that is working so well with teachers at the moment: bitch about the quality of those doing the job but do nothing to help those people do it better.

Shortly after becoming Premier, John Brumby said the two worst things about Melbourne were a 42-degree day and the city’s taxis.

Why not do something about it, John?