Wrong way street

In the build up to the World Cup hundreds of scaremongering articles were written and countless dire warnings made about the perils facing any traveller in South Africa. As fans back in Britain no doubt remark on the scores of empty seats at some of the games featuring the smaller nations the blame could and should be rested at the feet of such irresponsible and lazy journalism.

Forgetting, or choosing to ignore the fact that in the past 12 months the country has seen an IPL season, an England cricket tour and a British Lions rugby tour all pass without incident prospective football supporters were warned not to make the journey to a country which admittedly does boast one of the highest murder rates than any other on the planet and where car jacking is commonplace.

I haven't been here long, obviously wouldn't profess to having any experience of living within a township and certainly don't want to tempt online fate, but I would suggest that the biggest danger anyone faces in a car is at the hands of a taxi driver rather than a car jacker. For although they nearly always welcome you with a smile and blare out commentary of all the World Cup games in African they are the most reckless of breed.

The standard of driving here is terrifying. The roads are often gridlocked during rush hour and it leads to some impressively innovative ways of escaping traffic. Since being in South Africa I've been driven down the wrong side of the street on two separate occasions and seen the car I have been sitting in squeeze into and go through areas a rush hour tube traveller would turn his nose up at.

While the look of terror on the normally cocksure Darren Gough as he stared wild eyed through the windscreen as our driver spoke on the phone, the car weaving back and forth across four lanes of traffic on the way to the airport will long live in the memory. I wonder if that's what I look like when I fly?

As looks go it was right up there with the one that greeted me early in the morning at Heathrow when with my work colleagues all ordering a fry up I went for a double vodka and lemonade. Or the one that reverberated around the lodge living room when my erstwhile colleague Matt Smith announced he was only going to have fruit for breakfast.

It's also not uncommon for taxi drivers to reek of alcohol when you get in the car, and one car we picked up in Cape Town after the France game was in such bad state it could only go at 20k an hour up hills, stunk of burnt metal and by the time we reached our destination started to rattle ominously.

They say the biggest killer in Africa is malaria. That might be true but I'd say the humble cab driver is also right up there.