SEE IT, SAY IT, SOD IT

It’s not very good is it. I mean, how many people go "Wow, yes, I now feel empowered to play my part in keeping Britain’s railways safe". And how many people just go "it’s not very good is it"?

Which isn't what you'd expect from the railways. That pioneering force. That great British engine of social and cultural change. A hundred years ago the railways were busy changing the world, connecting our towns and cities, giving us all a way to get to work, and something to complain about when we got there. Before the railways we didn't even share the same time zone. And there was no WHSmith. And now what do they give us? Sloppy slogans and nonsensical announcements.

For example, when did it become necessary to remind us what a station does by putting the word 'stop' after it? And since when did things start 'arriving into' them? And how long has it been possible for something to be 'formed from' eight carriages. You'd think an organisation that spends all its time going to and from places would be on top of its propositions.

AVENGED

And…Action!

"I’m sorry sir, you’ll have to put that away," instructs the security guard.

“Why?” I ask innocently.

"There’s no filming or photography here I’m afraid."

“Why?" I ask again, getting into the part. "This is a public street.” 

Pause. The tension builds.

"You can take a picture of the trucks," he counters. "But the signs and number plates are confidential."

"You're talking a load of absolute bollocks," I spit with beautifully controlled malevolence. "What harm can there possibly be in us taking a picture of a crane!"

"Dad, please, come on!" pleads the eldest from stage left.

But I push on regardless, twirling my rhetorical war hammer to deliver the killer blow:

"And there's absolutely no way a number plate can be confidential!"