By the tracks of Woking station
By the gleaming ticket barrier
Stood the waiting train commuter
Stood the London-bound commuter
Looking at his watch frustrated.
Trains are running out to Portsmouth
But to London there is nothing
Tracks are empty bearing nothing
Wind blows harshly cross the platform.

Spoke the middle-aged commuter
To the next man with a briefcase,
Daily Telegraph protruding,
"What a way to run a railway!
Leave the paying public stranded.
Don't they know this is a service
Not a life-size Hornby train set
Blue and red and yellow train set
Theirs to play with at their leisure?"

Knew he not the man he spoke to
Standing on the cold grey platform
Unobtrusive on the platform.
Unlike all the good commuters,
This man was the chief of railways
Ruler of the Southwest franchise
Lord of rails and points and signals
Down to Exeter St Davids
(Sometimes on to Newton Abbot)
At whose word the drivers trembled.

Spoke he to the riled commuter
Spoke he softly words of comfort
"Oh I think they know it's serious
Not to keep the people waiting
Not to keep them on the platform
On the cold and windy platform.
Calm your anger, just be patient,
There will be another train soon."

Said the other, face astonished,
Eyes wide open so astonished,
"Truly do your words astound me.
Train sign boards have all gone vacant,
Up to London moves there nothing,
Idiots in charge know nothing!"

Rail chief pacified his temper
Counted up to ten quite slowly
Spoke again with voice so gentle
"Running railways is not easy.
Train break downs and drivers' absence,
Leaves on line and trackside flooding,
Lorries crashing into bridges,
Damaging the age old bridges -
All are dealt with, trains kept running
In all weathers they keep running.
Some mistakes you should allow for."

Raged commuter stamped his feet then
Waved his arms and shook his head then
"Do not give me all that waffle,
In our jobs we all have problems.
Standing here upon the platform
Gets no deals done, cuts our profits
While the railway boardroom members,
Pigs in troughs with three-course lunches,
Stuff their faces on our train fares."

Railway chief with face like thunder
Patience snapped, let loose his temper
Took the arm of the commuter
Took him to the edge of platform
Pushed him off the edge of platform
Into mighty train oncoming
Splattered on the train oncoming.
Glanced he at his pocket timepiece
Gift for forty years of service
Nodded sagely, softly muttered
"Weymouth non-stop here right promptly."

"End of Tether " by Kevin Smith