Wednesday, March 23, 2011

'All aboard the disappointing, deliberating, devestatingly dire 8:21 to Leeds.'

Oh the insufferable injustice of a relationship with Northern Rail.

Why am I paying £3 every day to be intimately pressed against a pensioner?

Why can't they master basic mathmastics by comparing the number of passengers to the number of seats?

Why platform 13B, wait no platform 3A, wait no, sit on the first train for 15 minutes, wait, sorry, we've lost your train, let me just check my coat pockets and get back to you?

You're telling me that a considerable chunk of my wage is making it's sad, slow walk into your bank account every month, and the best you can do is, 'I apologise on behalf of Northern Rail for this delayed/over crowded/technically unsafe/oddly smelling/several inexplicable pauses/hot journey.'

Why does nothing ever change? I've been getting these commuter trains from all over Leeds for three years, and the sheer consistency of the problems amazes me. Seriously, look at my face, my mouth is hanging open, my eyes are wide. I. Cannot. Actually. Believe. It.

But will I pay an extortinate amount of money to drive in, and park in the city? I will not.

Will I get a man in a taxi to ship me about at £13 a pop? I will not.

Will I keep making frustrated noises whilst crampt in a stuffy, late carriage, my arse cradled by the hands of a sitting teenager, my chin resting ever so gently on the shoulder of a nicotine-stinking goth? Why yes, yes I will.

Because Northern Rail, you have backed me into a very tricky corner, and there is no escape.

You complete bastards.

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