Britain's railways: Redefining Shite.

There are a number of reasons why, this morning, I am a testy, prickly ball of quiet rage this morning. I’m not going to detail them all – let’s be honest, hearing the ins and outs of a blogger’s life is like having a stroke – tremendously dull, life sapping and pointless for everyone involved. However, I will share one cause of consternation, as I am sure others will feel the same way. I’m talking about the rail network in this country.

The railway system in this country is the transport equivalent of a paranoid schizophrenic. Incapable of working and jarringly all over the place, the rail system will really fuck you up if you go anywhere near it. Seriously, going on a train journey at the moment is like being slashed in the face by a madman. Actually, having your face slashed by a nutter is actually preferable on some levels. At least it is over quicker than your average train journey.

To explain, this weekend I did the epic voyage that is travelling to the Midlands. When I was a kid, the journey (both ways) took just under two hours. This weekend, it lasted for over six. There’s progress for you. An extra four hours of my life disappearing into the ether, watching cows shitting in fields and observing just how rundown and crap life seems to be in and around Britain’s stations.

It all began several weeks ago, when I went online to buy the tickets. I always buy in advance. That way it is cheaper. Actually, no, scrap that. That way it is less gut wrenchingly expensive. Looking at the price I paid for an advance ticket I cannot help but think “sweet Jesus titty fucking Christ, I’m glad I paid in advance. Had I paid full price, I would have had to take a second job just to be able to afford the ticket.”

Then I turned up at the station. To find the train I was on did not exist. Never the best of starts. So I went and asked the good people of Virgin Trains for assistance. Actually, saying “good people of Virgin Trains” is a little bit inaccurate. They actually had the interpersonal skills of Josef Stalin with a bout of depression. To put these people in a customer service position is like putting a spree killer in a gun shop – a disaster waiting to happen.

Anyway, having spoken to four different people and been insulted, patronised and lied to, I eventually found my train. And, after a good three hours, one train journey and one coach journey, I arrived at my destination. Feeling as exhausted as one might after a bout of radiation sickness. You know your journey is not going well when you are sat in what looked like a barn in Northampton station, waiting for a bus.

The journey back wasn’t much better. Again, the train/train and bus/whatever didn’t exist. Cue a forty minute wait in a station reception hall for a coach back to Northampton. Somewhat amazingly, there was a train waiting. It was the coldest train in the history of the world, leaving me with chills down my spine on the hottest day of the year. Still at least there was a train there.

And in fairness, the train conductor apologised for all the fucking around that was going on. A grudging apology, mind. When he apologised for the delays he was quick to blame Network Rail. So it was the sort of apology that went “I’m sorry but it is not my fault”. So not a genuine apology really. He did offer complaint forms that one could get from his office (seriously, an office on the train?! The trains don’t run on time but the conductor has an office on board!) but he added the caveat that there weren’t many of them. In other words, you can complain, but you’d better do it quick or you will miss out!

I was tempted to grab a complaint form – any readers of this blog will know I love a good moan – but seriously, what would be the point? Virgin will say “not our fault, we’re passing the problem to Network Rail.” Network Rail will say “can’t do anything about it, we’re passing this on to the government.” And the government will say “ha ha! Fuck you!” Spending five minutes filling in their form would be a further waste of my pointless life. It would be more effective if I just wrote “you are a bunch of fucking cuntwads” on the form and posted it to them. It would still be ignored, but at least I would feel better for having vented a little bit.

I don’t know how to cure the ills of the railway system. Nationalisation, a regulated monopoly, firebombing the whole fucking network and trying again; I genuinely don’t know what the solution is. But whatever happens, something needs to change. Because the rail network in this country currently offers the levels of service and efficiency that one might associate with a post apocalyptic wasteland. Rather than a developed nation in the year 2008.