What's 'appenin' 'ere?

“So there I was, fiddling around with the radio in me cab, and out the corner of me eye I see this suit wearing bloke running, and he gets into the cab in front of mine, can’t see who’s drivin’ though, and I just think ‘what’s ‘appenin’ ‘ere? I guess I’ll never know’ and get back to fiddling with me radio, I think I looked for a screwdriver in the glove box or summink, then this other suit wearing bloke dashes into me cab and shouts at me “Follow that taxi!”, I do so quickly of course, and I’m breaking the speed limit ‘ere, as he looks like a reservoir dog, and I don’t want him to pull a shooter on me or anyfink. We’ve successfully got closer to that cab now, and I can see the back of the driver’s ‘ead, it’s a big, bald slap ‘ead, bloody ‘ell, I think that’s Wayne! I saw ‘im actually look in his mirror and nod to me. Wayne’s passenger is looking behind ‘im at this other bloke in my cab, kind of inconspicuously, as if ‘e can’t notice, and can faintly hear the bloke in the back of my cab mouthing “Fuck off.”, like saying it, but not properly sayin’. So both our cabs are goin’ at roughly the same speed, quite fast, and luckily, the roads aren’t very busy at all. Nothin’s really ‘appenin’ at the moment, so I thought I’d make a light hearted pun, so I says to this bloke “Which o’ of you is Mr. Orange?”. Not even a faint smile, bloody miserable bastard, he didn’t say anyfink’ so I’m assuming ‘e ‘asn’t seen the film or is just really pissed off. I shoulda’ used common sense really and taken the latter for granted, you know what I’m sayin’, mate? ‘Bout 30 seconds since my witty but wasted cultural reference, vroom, Wayne’s off speedin’ down the road at, ah, I dunno, ‘bout 60 miles per ‘our. This bloke isn’t ‘avin of that tho’, “Catch up with him!” he bloody bellows at me again, ignorant prick, but I do, even though I’ve since learned he’s prolly not armed at all. 60 miles per ‘our, in a fuckin’ 30 zone, the streets are fairly empty but I’m still fuckin’ shittin’ it at this point, you know what I mean? You know, you lot takin’ me in an’ you ‘ave an’ all, but anyway, there’s about 5 minutes of this malarkey before Wayne, crazy bastard that ‘e is, fuckin’ swerves and turns around…in the middle of the road, an’ so then I ‘ave to do the same don’t I? There’s a bit of rough drivin’ goin’ round, and that’s when I ‘ear your sirens an’ all that, Wayne stops straight away, too quickly, I nearly crashed into the back of ‘im, we’re both stopped, our two passengers, leg it out and chase by foot now, they run off into the night, and, mate, I don’t wanna be mean about your co-workers or anyfink, but they didn’t even give ‘em a second glance, so what I’m sayin’ is, you got the wrong two fellas ‘ere, we just doin’ our job, we weren’t the ones playin’ bloody Bobby De Niro…an’ that’s it, really.” “Okay, thank you for your help, Mr. Murphy, you’re free to go.”