'The great train robbery'

Today (in my eyes at least) Southern Rail have managed to surpass bankers (I was tempted to 'accidentally' misspell that one), speed cameras, MP's and yes, even traffic wardens, as the most evil money grabbing shower currently plying their trade and whoring their wares about this fine country.

Please indulge me the crowing of a few grievances judiciously presented to me during what should have been a pleasant day excursion to Richmond (a lovely town it is too by the way).

The great bubble of excitement garnered prior to my departure was quickly and brutally burst when I discovered that the already cramped carriages were full. Thus I had paid for little more than a 'stand' as opposed to a 'seat' on the train.

This may not sound quite so unusual but, alas, there were a great many seats available apart from the auspiciously and strategically placed bags which had either shod all semblance of inertia and managed to buy themselves a ticket; or were being used as a totemistic fabric-lined gesture akin to a bi-digital salute.

In short their owners were saying “Sod off, sit somewhere else, anywhere else, just not next to me”.

Friendly eh?

After fighting my way through the narrow gangways of loose limbs, suitcases and bag straps and just when all hope of some reasonable degree of comfort seemed lost, a beautiful vision hove into view with all the allure of a shiny ball to a particularly wired pooch.

Empty seats! Sans baggage or laptops. I felt richer than King Croesus and the god of small things wrapped neatly into one.

Hip, hip and indeed hooray.

My hopes were dashed when I espied the '1st Class' sticker plastered on the window. Well, the seats were empty and the designated '1st Class' area was but a paragraph in the page of carriage four. It wasn't even it's own page (or carriage to dispense with the book metaphor).

“This must be some stickering error made by some spotty, zit ridden, over-zealous apprentice train conductor” thought I.

And with good reason to boot, as the '1st Class' area was anything but '1st Class'.

As I have mentioned it was a mere bit of a carriage, rather than a whole designated carriage as one expects to find on rail transport, nestled in with '2nd Class' or 'Rubbish Class' seating/standing (there was no sticker telling me how it should be labelled, so I have taken on the job personally in case we all end up covered in stickers and Clearasil).

The seats in '1st Class' were exactly the same as 'Rubbish Class'. The same lack of leg room for anyone over 4' tall, the same squeaky pull down table hanging off the seat in front, the same graffiti extolling the virtues of 'NWA', the same stained upholstery, the same amonia-riddled smell clogging the air.

There was literally no difference according to my panoramic survey with the seats five feet away in 'Rubbish Class' (though maybe under microscopic examination one may chance upon a better quality of crumb nestled betwixt seat and arm rest).

I must confess to feeling a twinge of guilt however for imposing upon this palatial beacon of salubrity having not paid through the nose for it, but needs must.

My hopes of a pleasant journey were further dashed by the arrival of two 'Authorised Inspectors', one of whom bore more than a passing resemblance to Roald Dahls' spinster headmistress 'Trunchbull' of 'Matilda' fame.

Far from bothering the greedy peoples who opted to treat their bag/laptop/suitcase as one would a paying customer, they gleefully stormed into '1st Class' and demanded tickets. Upon production of my 'Rubbish Class' ticket I was unceremoniously fined a £20 on the spot penalty fine.

The sheer rudeness and lack of any sort of humanity told me that any appeals for mercy would fall upon ears colder than those of 'The Terminator' himself.

Added to the fact that my initial ticket cost near £20 (the one that bought me only the right to stand and be damned grateful for the privilege you'll remember) this brief foray on public transport cost me £40 for really only a short journey.

Could a brief warning coupled with a “move it or lose it” sentiment not replace this punctilious adherence to a draconian code of conduct?

Does customer service mean anything any more? Humility? Good-naturedness?

Sure I should have been incredibly grateful for my opportunity to make way for some suited buffoon's bag, but I was a paying customer and don't appreciate being treated like a rogue, vagabond or robber.

Besides, anyone actually paying '1st Class' prices must feel that they have been robbed themselves given the apparent lack of any discernible class therein.

Bad show Southern Rail, bad show.

Maybe the proceeds of my fine and those of many others gained throughout the year no doubt, could be put towards making '1st Class' seating look less like the last Turkey in the shop and more like the sumptuously dressed dinner implied in the name...

...or maybe it would be money well spent providing enough seating for those of us not chaperoning a V.I.B. (very important bag – more important than common decency, clearly).