All this and Platform Zero too...

The trains are getting worse and worse. Alright, generally speaking they're not bad. Now that's how you turn things round in two sentences: the trains are gettting worse to 'they're not bad'. How's that for indecisive? Well, it's true; one minute they're fine and the next they're not. I feel really sorry for anybody using Thameslink at this present time – not 'this present time' as in this very moment, but sort of 'around now', ever since they messed around with the fucking timetables, things haven't been too good on the trains. There's been delays and cancellations, mainly the latter for Thameslink 'customers' – and God, do I hate that word 'customers', as if we have a fucking choice! Customers! We're passengers whether we like it or not, not customers who can pick and choose.

Platform zero at Redhill in Surrey...

What I hate most of all is standing on the platform, waiting. And there's a little display unit hanging down over the platform giving the scheduled time of the train, let's say 0809, and the time it's actually going to arrive, let's say 0811. And it's like this when I arrive and initially I sigh with relief: despite leaving the house late I'm still able to catch my train because the damn thing is late by a few minutes. Fine! But things change. I look up at the display: 'Expected: 0815'. It's getting further away, not nearer! And then I realise what's happening. Perhaps it's the station that's moving, not the train, and as a result, the train is getting further away. If I simply stand on the platform for long enough, the station will arrive at my destination – another station. There will be an almighty crash as concrete clashes with concrete, I'll probably fall over, but at least I'll be at my destination where I can jump off the platform, dust myself down and then watch as my station, Purley Oaks, crunches off towards the south coast, dust and bits of concrete falling by the wayside as it rumbles along, taking my destination station with it, one big mass of concrete and bricks. And then, later, on my return journey, I'll have to get a bus as my station would have crashed into the buffers at Brighton or Bognor Regis or Southampton Central. All over the cuntry there would be piles of broken up concrete as railway stations on the move reach a dead end and find they can travel no further. And meanwhile, the trains are getting further and further away, some of them are on ferries crossing the North Sea, others are heading to Greenland, some are crossing the Atlantic and others are colliding with bulk carriers somewhere on the English Channel.

"Don't jump!"

The train companies, the railway people, Chris Grayling, everybody involved, is taking the piss out of the customers and no more so than at Redhill station. They've gone one step beyond by introducing a Platform Zero. Standing on it makes me feel small, stupid and exploited, it's the train station equivalent of the naughty step, the place you don't want to go, the place you can't believe exists – perhaps it doesn't exist. Platform Zero is a long platform, it can take trains that are so long they're still at their station of origin when they arrive, you could literally get on the train and walk all the way back to Brighton.

No wonder the Samaritans have a sign at the end of most platforms asking suicidal 'customers' to 'talk to us'. Talk to the Samaritans before flinging yourself in front of the train is the message.