We regret to inform you...

We regret to inform you that the 12:37 to Birmingham is delayed by five minutes. The tannoy squeals in to life again five minutes later. We regret to inform you that the 12:37 to Birmingham is delayed by approximately twelve minutes. And so it goes on. Twelve in to seventeen. Seventeen in to twenty one. Twenty one to twenty six. I am wondering at this point as to when the connection will disappear off the timetable altogether. The operator, despairing the delay just decides to shunt the offending train in to some long forgotten siding never to be seen again. The passengers become concerned, frustrated, then feral, devouring each other in some sort of frenzied mess until just one remains. The one to scrawl their confession in blood across the train windows before they themselves succumb to starvation. Only then will the train operator retrieve the train, the last witness to the delay long deceased, clean up the mess and send the doomed vessel back out on to the tracks of terror. The family and friends will never know the fate of their loved ones who just disappeared on that day.

The train arrives but I am beset by a panic attack. We are well behind schedule and somewhere, hidden amongst these tracks are the ancestors of Sawney Bean. Lurking, waiting in the sidings for a train to be delayed. I’m not concerned with missing my connection, but the greedy hungry looks of my fellow passengers eying me up as a tasty morsel. Shooting Derby is no longer a hobby, it’s a matter of survival, anyone on this carriage could have the surname Bean.

36 hours later I’m on my way back home. It’s been a long day. Four bouts in quick succession. It’s been a tight schedule, so tight that I’ve not been able to get lunch and it’s also well past dinner time. It’s just a good job I’ve got some sachets of ketchup in my bag, that couple on the table opposite me don’t arf look tasty.

We regret to inform you that the train is delayed by approximately thirty three minutes.