I see a white plane and I want to paint it black

Last December this column carried an item featuring ‘‘omnishambles’’, named by the Oxford English Dictionary as the 2012 ‘‘word of the year’’. The word is defined as: ‘‘A situation that has been comprehensively mismanaged, characterised by a string of blunders and miscalculations.’’

If anyone suspected the word might be redundant, they need not have worried, as witnessed by events at Suvarnabhumi airport last week.

What’s more, we have even turned up a new word out of the story which the OED might be interested in — ‘‘de-identify’’, as in ‘‘to de-identify any aircraft in an accident’’. Or in layman’s terms, a ludicrous bid to conceal the airline’s identity.

The incident of the plane sliding off the runway would have been restricted to a small filler in the world’s press, until someone in authority — possibly a fan of the Rolling Stones — came up with the magnificent Paint it Black idea, hiding the airline logo and other identification marks.

The ensuing botched paint job, which looked unworthy of a kindergarten class, prompted disbelief and headlines around the world. It simply looked absurd. Running out of puff Suffering their own ‘‘omnishambolic’’ experience last week was the State Railway of Thailand as the number of derailments this year reached a respectable darts score.

One engine even succeeded in falling off the tracks when it was in a stationary mode, which is quite an achievement in itself.

But all is not lost. The SRT believes it may have found the source of all their woes. The culprit is a 48-year-old oil painting at the SRT headquarters which depicts an old steam engine preparing to chug its way out of Hua Lamphong railway station. The painting appears to have been recently damaged with a small chunk of track missing. Just like the real thing.

This, of course, is a ‘‘bad omen’’ and hopefully this work of art will be quickly restored to its original state, which should stop any more trains falling off the tracks forthwith.

Incidentally, the steam engine in the painting looks in better shape than some of the current diesel locomotives, which is a bit worrying. A brave effort The SRT has admittedly experienced some really wretched luck. In one of the most recent derailments, the train from the southern border town of Sungai Kolok almost made it, travelling approximately 1,300km only to fall short by about 300m as it approached Hua Lamphong — owing to ‘‘subsidence’’.

So near and yet so far — a bit like running a marathon and collapsing in sight of the tape. No longer on Thai time The 45-day closure of the northern line between Uttaradit and Chiang Mai provinces has had unexpected repercussions for people at stations down the line. In Phitsanulok province, passengers are so used to the trains from Chiang Mai wheezing in hours late that they have got into the habit of showing up at the station much later than the scheduled departure time.

But now the trains are turning around in Uttaradit, only 100km further up the line, and not Chiang Mai, things have changed a bit. Some trains have even arrived on time, catching Phitsanulok passengers totally on the hop. Worried station officials in Phitsanulok are now finding themselves in the unusual position of having to placate furious passengers who are demanding to know why the train isn’t late. The first journey It is very sad to see the SRT in its current sorry state. I recall being quite impressed after my very first trip aboard the 3.40pm ‘‘express’’ from Hua Lamphong to Alor Setar in June, 1969.

It was a visa run and after a night in Malaysia, I was on the train again back to Bangkok. That was approaching 2,000km on a Thai train in three days, which sounds like some form of primitive torture, but was actually quite good fun. And it didn’t fall off the rails once.

For the next two decades I travelled throughout Thailand on the trains with hardly a hitch — well, maybe one or two. There was the incredibly slow mixed goods train to Kanchanaburi province that took all day, when we seemed to spend half the time going backwards. Then there was the Hat Yai-Bangkok ‘‘express’’ which ground to a halt in the middle of the Surat Thani jungle owing to a derailed goods train further up the line. We sat there for six hours in the middle of the night. Fortunately I was in the restaurant car and proceeded to party with the waiters and cooks. A memorable night, although the following morning I didn’t feel so great. Dangerous liaisons At least you never go hungry on a Thai train. Every station you stop at, and that is usually too many, resembles more of a market place than the drab stations you find, for example, in England.

In fact you used to be able to get almost anything on a Thai train. In the early 1970s I was once offered a girl by an overzealous guard on the Ubon-Bangkok ‘‘rapid’’.

He wanted to ensure my journey was a memorable one. I politely declined the offer, and found myself pondering the potential hazards of attempting a liaison on the narrow top bunk of a second-class sleeper.

It’s a long way down if you happen to fall off in a moment of passion.