BEN HARVEY: Perth illegal taxi network exposed as student visa drivers fuel booming cash fare trade

“Fuck you. I’m not getting out until you tell me who the fuck you are.”

In the early hours of the morning and after several (dozen) beers at an AC/DC concert last year, this columnist was not at his most eloquent.

The recipient of the expletive-riddled outburst was a taxi driver I had hailed from the side of the road in the Perth party zone of Northbridge.

It started out politely. My brother had asked to be dropped at his house, a 20-minute drive north, via my house (which was about about seven or eight minutes away).

“Yes, that’s $30,” the driver replied.

We were about to take off when, through my booze-fogged brain, it occurred to me that a cabbie couldn’t know what the cost would be before we got there because they couldn’t predict what the meter would show when they put the car back into park.

Clearly, the driver was taking a cash job.

Now, I have no major philosophical problem with screwing the toecutters at the ATO out of a few bucks but I don’t like getting ripped off myself, so I questioned the fare.

“Is that $30 all up?” I asked.

“No that’s just to the first stop, it’s more after that,” was his reply.

I have taken countless taxis home from Northbridge over the years (usually after having consumed countless beers) and $30 is more than double what I usually pay.

“Come on mate, that’s a bit steep,’ I said jovially, assuming the bartering was on.

I misinterpreted the situation because he told me to “get the fuck out” of the taxi.

It was at that point that it occurred to me I could spy no meter in the front of the cab.

Nor was there the usual driver identification documentation you see on the dashboard.

This bloke wasn’t just doing a sly cashie; he was driving illegally.

I had absolutely no problem with being in a taxi with someone whose particulars I had no idea about, if only because the driver was slightly built and my brother is not.

But I didn’t like the idea of my partner or sister potentially being in that situation, which is why the colourful exchange at the top of this column ensued.

The conversation was, errr, animated and at no point involved language such as “I take exception to logic and bid you good evening”.

If anyone is able to obtain CCTV footage of Roe Street, Northbridge around 12.30am on December 4, 2025, you will see a white taxi hurtling west with its left rear door open and a leg flapping in the wind.

The owner of the leg (me) was yelling at the driver to stop, and the driver was yelling about how he was going to take me to the police station.

If you look carefully in the distance of that CCTV footage you will see my brother standing on the side of the road, shaking his head and mouthing words to the effect of “why am I related to such a dickhead, we could just order an Uber”.

Fast forward three minutes and CCTV footage outside the nearby Perth Police Station on the corner of Roe Street and Fitzgerald Street will show the same taxi parked on the side of the road as its two occupants yelled and pointed accusatory fingers at each other.

“Get out, we are going into the police station right now,” he ordered.

“Fine by me,” I replied, “but I’m not getting out until you do because you’re just going to take off.”

It was a Mexican standoff.

There was no way he wanted to walk into a police station and explain why he was driving a cab illegally.

And I didn’t want to walk into the police station because my leg was hurting like hell from having the car door bang into it five times.

We ran out of conversation pretty quickly and sat in silence.

Then I saw the screen saver on his phone. Two young kids, aged around four or five, and a woman in her 20s.

He was out driving at 1am to get some extra cash for his family.

A more cordial discussion followed, in which he explained (partially) how he came to be driving (illegally) a taxi 6500km from his home in Bangalore.

Over the ensuing months I was ripped off several times after getting in taxis at airports and being told the EFTPOS machine was down or the meter was malfunctioning.

When I questioned one $95 fare (which was $40 more than I usually pay), the driver immediately countered with $85 and dropped it to $75 when he realised I baulking.

Clearly, there was a pretty mature illicit industry here, so I did a bit of journalistic digging.

It turns out Pauline Hanson was onto something when she claimed at her recent National Press Club address that the student visa system was being abused by people who are here to work first and study second.

Driving taxis appears to be one of the most common jobs, particularly for young Pakistani and Indian men.

My enquiries uncovered a sophisticated network in which the men are often briefed about particulars of working in the industry, and coached on obtaining an Australian driver’s licence, before they even apply for their visa.

When they arrive Down Under, they have accommodation sorted for them, with many “hot bedding” in crowded houses.

They then sign themselves up to different companies, which operate as so-called on-demand booking services — essentially websites set up after a simple application process.

When not taking fares at cab ranks, the students take jobs assigned through a network of WhatsApp groups set up by the booking services, which take a 10 per cent cut of each fare.

There are hundreds of groups, each with hundreds of members.

Message threads I saw show thousands of dollars an hour is funnelled through each group, with cash and off-meter jobs prevalent.

The WhatsApp groups are used to warn drivers when authorities are conducting a compliance blitz.

People on student visas are allowed to work 48 hours in any given fortnight during semester but many drivers clock up to 90, sending money back to their home countries.

They should not work for more than 14 hours in any one driving shift but many simply go “off meter” after that period.

Some students genuinely study but others do not bother turning up.

Here’s where it gets to the pointy end of the immigration debate.

If push comes to shove, the university will cancel the student’s “confirmation of enrolment”.

In that case, the Department of Home Affairs is alerted through a database known as the Provider Registration and International Student Management System.

Students whose enrolment is cancelled are given 30 days to leave the country but many do not. Multiple sources confirmed that Australian Border Force agents spent little time searching for overstayers.

At the moment it’s a victimless crime because we need the labour and they need the money.

Let’s see what happens when the unemployment rate has a 6 in front of it or Prime Minister Hanson orders the ABF conduct some ICE-style raids.