I recently fell down an archive rabbit hole and ended up watching a 1974 BBC report on Belfast’s black taxis. It was a dispatch from another age: boxy cars, grey streets, and interviewees who looked as though they could explain the Troubles with nothing more than a Benson & Hedges and a raised eyebrow.

The real star is the reporter’s voice as he treats the subject with the hushed seriousness of David Attenborough discovering a new species: Here we observe the Belfast commuter in his natural habitat, queueing patiently beside a black taxi and pretending the rain is only a local rumour.

There is a lovely absurdity in watching a wind-battered Englishman in a bowler hat, microphone in hand, standing in Belfast as if sent by central casting to document what he calls “a miniature taxi city”- aka Castle Street taxi depot - for viewers across the water. You half expect him to whisper, and if we’re very quiet, we may see the driver only accept exact change.

The video did more than make me nostalgic for the good old days; it delivered the grim realisation that Belfast’s old black taxi system is well and truly extinct. Gone are the days of squeezing 12 people into a cab built for five - which, admittedly, may sound........

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