Is it just ME?

Or are railway announcements utterly infuriating?

THE seats, when you can find one, are rigidly uncomfortable and often have a glob of chewinggum stuck to them.

The timetable is a work of misplaced optimism. The instant-travel tickets are a rip-off. The on-board lavatories pong and you discover the basin has no running water only after you have squirted that noxious soap on your hands.

And if that were not enough to send you round the bend, there is the peculiar English they use.

‘Our next station stop is Swindon’ croaks the Tannoy.

Station stop? Why not just say ‘stop’, as any sane person would?

Then: ‘We are arriving into Swindon.’ Since when has ‘into’ been the preposition used after ‘arrive’? Anyone with even a basic command of English knows you arrive ‘at’ a place.

Welcome to Britain’s infuriating, managerialised, sub-standard railways.

Bing-bong. Cue another automated expression of regret for ‘delays to your journey today’. Has it not dawned on the likes of Great Western and Branson’s Virgin that a pre-recorded apology will never sound sincere?

Railway stations once had porters to help you with your luggage. Now we have ‘customer service teams’ who barely lift a finger while elderly folk struggle with trapped wheelie-suitcases at electronic barriers.

Trains once had guards with smart peaked caps and redstriped trousers. Now we have ‘train managers’ in shiny suits who welcome you with the warning that if you are travelling on the wrong sort of ticket you will be whacked with a full-fat fare.

As a lad I loved the restaurant cars. On the old Paddington to Kemble Junction express they would come to your table and serve you teacakes and tea in a pot with a proper cup and saucer.

Now you’re lucky if there’s a poky buffet bar offering U.S.style cupcakes, coffee in a cardboard beaker and, ‘a selection of alcoholic beverages’. Beverages! It’s enough to drive you to gin before breakfast.

‘Our next station stop is Swindon...’ Why not just say ‘stop’ like any sane person?