National Rail Strategy - Leaked Report

Ever wanted to know what the rail companies really think of you. Below is an extract from a briefing for TransWorld Advanced Transport, a British rail company. Don't ask how I got it, let's just say it fell into my lap:


National Rail Strategy: The Future of Rail Travel in Britain:

"This briefing note is aimed as an overview of a more extensive examination of the rail strategy for TransWorld Advanced Travel (hereafter TWAT). This document is aimed as a help guide for TWAT employees and covers some key areas of concern that require clarification:

First Class

First Class is generally classed as any available seat and is usually located at the rear of the train. TWAT employees often ask when is it possible to de-classify First Class. There are two situations that can warrant this extreme measure:

• The instance of a pregnant woman having to stand. This still requires the passenger to produce evidence that she is pregnant, namely a letter from a doctor, broken waters or (preferably) a child.
• Someone with enough clowt to sue us is left without a seat. Remove the pregnant woman if necessary.

Passengers without tickets

We need to keep this malignant cancer in check. To do this, we have introduced the 'full fare' policy. If a passenger has entered the train and doesn't have a ticket for the journey between Leeds and Huddersfield for instance, our policy will be to charge the full fare for a journey between Lands End and John O Groats,... in First Class.

Overcrowding

A major concern for workers is the problem with overcrowding. We encourage all employees who have concerns to put them in writing, supplying their payroll number, National Insurance number, address and complete list of their loved ones. Overcrowding is an issue that is being addressed and we ensure all employees that we are doing everything we can to get as many people on to the smallest train possible. We do get a small amount of complaints about overcrowding but we are at pains to point out that when our trains eventually crash, survival rates could be high (would you rather rattle around in an empty carriage or be held fast, like a sardine in a tin). The layout of carriages is being addressed and the new seating plan can be seen exclusively, here.

We thank TWAT employees for all their efforts in realising our vision, we wouldn't be able to make our bonuses happen without them."

The Boy Done Good

I am reading a good book at the moment:

The Boy Done Good: Darren Mooney the First Twenty Years published by Hard Press-ed.

It's the rags to riches story of a 20yr old Premiership footballer. It's generally better than other's in it's field because it isn't ghost-written. Below is a random excerpt from the chapter 'Giving Something Back':

"17th July 2008

It was my birthday and I woke up at the usual time of 10:30am, as excited as a kid on Christmas day. Kelly had been acting well suspiciously over the last few days. She had been really secretive and kept going out of the room to make phone calls. I knew she was up to something. So here I was on my birthday morning, and she was no where in sight!

I went down stairs and had some cereal and I checked my emails. An hour must have passed and there was no sign of Kelly anywhere. I tried ringing her mobile but it was switched off. I thought "What's going on?" Then I tried to ring her mum and her's was engaged as well. Because there was nothing that I could do, I went for a swim and a bit of a work out. The gaffer had given me the day off training because of my birthday but I still like to keep fit.

Finally, in the afternoon I got a call from Kerry. I said "Where've you been, I've been trying to ring you? It's been doing me head in." Kerry just told me to come to the Devonshire, but not the front bit, that's the pub, but the back bit which is the reception suite. "Ah, man" I thought, I was well excited. I quickly got showered and changed. I decided to put my best rolex on, with the diamonds and put on my new Armani suit that I got for the club dinner. As it was my birthday I decided I'd take the Ferrari out for a spin. It's great, goes really fast and what's best is that there's a Satnav that tells me where the speed cameras are. I got there in about 5 minutes!!!

When I went in the lights were off, in the room. Suddenly, there was a big flash and a big noise and all the lights went on. Kerry, her mum, the gaffer and all the lads were there shouting surprise. "woa, mental!" I said. If that was a surprise, you should of seen my face when they brought my present out... it was another Ferrari. What a big shock! I knew Kerry was up to something because she kept asking me what my favourite car was.

It was the best birthday ever. It made me feel really good.

A Child of God

I was born a Christian Fundamentalist, not disimilar to the ones you see outside abortion clinics in America. From the moment that I gasped my first breath, blinded by the flourescent tubes of the delivery room, I was a Christian; my eyes were open, I had seen the light. The first voice that spoke to me was Jesus. He told me what my life meant and what my purpose was: To speak the message and promote the greater glory of his father, Jehovah.

As a 5 minute old baby, the task could seem daunting but my fresh perspective on life was what he was looking for. I know...because he told me. Even as the umbilical was being cut, my beliefs were being formulated and organised in my head. As I lay at my mother's breast feeding, I was distracted, I didn't need this triviality, I had God's work to do. What was my message going to be, what should I prioritise? I was keen to get started.

Admittedly, my early ministry was modest, at best. It is quite difficult for a cooing infant to convey the evil that is intrinsic in a blood transfusion, especially when there is a dummy in your mouth. I understood how Jesus must have felt as an infant in the temple. At a gathering of mothers and my peers, I tried to warn, as Jesus did on the Mount of Olives, of the presence of false prophets but was constantly frustrated by interruption. I was reduced to a tactic used by many evangelists - creating a spectacle. Trapped in my own mind, without the power of speech, reason or toileting, I resorted to making a scene. Style over substance I know, but until I was able to articulate to my disciples, defecating and screaming would have to suffice.

An inauspicious start but until my speech and language skills developed, this would have to be my message...

(to be continued)

The Origins of the Itch (or How I came to suffer the Itch)

To quote:

Mrs. Fussey: Joan may think you're a gentleman but personally I've got sore misgivings.
Sid Boggle: You ought to put some talcum powder on them.

This is perhaps my favourite Carry On line after the immortal "Infamy, Infamy, they've all got it in for me" and I thought it a neat way to start my first post in my first ever blog. Who knows, it may be the last ever post in my last ever blog. Let's just see how things pan out.

I thought the quote apt (and I wanted to crowbar a Carry On quote into my first post). I don't have anything physically sore that I wish to confess and if I did I wouldn't do it on the Web. What ails me is a kind of psychic itch, that I can't seem to scratch, or if I can, it's not going away. It's like an itch on the arch of your foot when you're wearing a pair of walking boots. You can't do anything about it. You try to press into the sole of your shoe but it won't go away. Or you try to magically fold your foot up, as if you could scratch it with your toe. Unfortunately, our evolution has passed that very useful itch scratching stage.

So, what is this 'psychic itch'? Well, it's certainly not one thing!

I'm one of those people who has opinions and suffers impotently when my opinion is ignored or not heard. I have really good ideas that come to nothing. I'm well meaning but a little lethargic. I think I could write but I suffer from a fear of rejection if I actually tried to publish something. Therefore, I quite often have a good idea and don't do anything about it.

I watch the world, aghast at what happens. How can countries declare war without diplomacy first? How can so many have nothing when a few have more than enough for everyone? How can people channel all their energies into blind faith, rather than into working with each other?

I could go on, but I won't. I guess the problem could be summed up as a general irritation I have with things. Don't get me wrong, I have a very happy home life with my wonderful wife Tanya and the fabulous cat Ori (or Bongo for short). What I'm talking about is a bit more abstract. It could be untapped potential, it could be an unvented spleen or it could be a niggling issue that I haven't got to grips with; it's probably all three.

So that's what The Itch will be. The subject may vary from a constructive reflection on something in the news, an angry diatribe, confession, the odd stream of consciousness, my own musings on popular or even high culture (more likely the former), not to mention my own hopes / dreams / aspirations / fear / neuroses / loves / hates. I hope it remains entertaining, topical and controversial where necessary. I'm sure you will vote with your feet if it isn't.

How often I post will depend on whether I can be arsed or how passionate I'm feeling about something. I'm looking forward to it. Perhaps it will be the talcum powder I need for the 'psychic itch'.

p.s.: Being the lazy 2:2 attaining History graduate that I am, I didn't bother checking to see if the phrase 'psychic itch' has been used previously. I'm sure the term has been used and probably for something altogether more profound than my little malaise! If you've heard of it before let me know. If you google it, let me know.