So I'm sat here, at the train station, in a town called Bridgwater, well known for its picturesque views and traditional past times such as shoplifting and unemployment.
It has come to my attention that my usual 18:19 first great western service to Cardiff central calling at Weston-Super-Mare, has been cancelled due to a train fault. Not only has the man announced this to me on several occasions in a short window of time, but he also took the pleasure in telling me that the next train arriving at my platform does not stop here. Twice. That's right, rub it in why don't you, let all of us sit here in misery because you can't even be bothered to arrange a replacement bus service or any consolidation what so ever. You might as well of showed up with custard pies, thrown them in our faces and urinated all over us and posted it on YouTube.
No wonder why the conductors are so miserable all the time, because they take the rap for a company that's disorganised and operates so negatively.
They ask you for your ticket, then when you tell them you were running late, apologise, and offer to buy one using your card, they look at you like you've just banged their wife while leaving teeth marks in the headboard of a bed they still havent paid for, ate their food and patted their child on the head on the way out. It's remarkable. I assume they must get treated just as bad as employees as we do passengers.
Still though, choosing between my train being late and living life as a conductor, I pick the late train. Because that, would be really shit.
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