We have had some respite at the Noord Street taxi rank. The Metro cops have started point duty at the only exit and helped to unclog the daily traffic jam.

We have had some respite at the Noord Street taxi rank. The Metro cops have started point duty at the only exit and helped to unclog the daily traffic jam.

But they do not police the congestion every day. The minute they disappear the drivers revert to their maverick ways.

They unilaterally turn some streets into one-way streets and disregard the traffic lights. I think it would be a good idea to train a few taxi rank marshals to become assistant traffic controllers.

They need only work at the ranks and I am sure the taxi owners would not mind paying them an extra stipend for this necessary task.

After all, they already wear those green and yellow jackets while controlling the crowds. They seem proud to do so.

Queue marshals have great power at the ranks and they can cow the most recalcitrant drivers. The city has embarked on a scheme to train the queue marshals in first aid and customer care. This is good news for commuters as the rank can be frightfully stuffy and crowded.

Last week I expected to hear the commuters raise the subject of the taximen who indecently assaulted a young lady at the taxi rank.

I did not hear one word. Zip. When I tried to talk about the assault, I did not get any response either in the young lady's defence or against her. It was a bit unexpected and I wondered if they cared one way or the other.

Auntie Emma, who has a long memory of odd tales, said stripping women was an old custom with some males. She said in her salad days rejected lovers used to force women, at the taxi rank in Commissioner Street and Hoek Street, to return the gifts of clothing they had bought them.

She said men used to buy their lovers "head to toe" outfits and sleepwear when they went on holiday in Durban. The men would start paying off the laybys in January.

The vengeful men would strip them of their Arrow shirts and Ggeorgette skirts and Barker flats. They would then start looking for a new girlfriend with the same size to pass the spoils oto.

There must have been one or two cat fights when the old girlfriend recognised the woman who had replaced her in the man's life by her old wardrobe.

I find the mix of people and fashion at the rank fascinating. It whiles away the time as some of the clothes are a great laugh.

You see aunties who wear crimplene outfits with lavatory heels. I imagine they feel because they spent precious money on an outfit, they should wear it until it falls to pieces.

The young people strut confidently in very high heels, with their underwear showing. I have not yet seen any stumble or fall. Their partners wear pointed shoes in white called "kick and boboza".

Someone should tell them that their grandfathers and fathers also strutted their stuff in white shoes called white ducks.