A grey-haired gentleman wearing a regimental tie strides towards the lifts, taking a good look at the blue-uniformed staff member in attendance at the barrier as he passes. Shabby, he thinks. A disgrace to his unit. Cap on askew. Shoes that haven't seen brush or polish in weeks. That stubble's definitely not regulation. Should be drummed right back out onto Civvy Street.
And this floor. Unswept. Discarded tickets and mucky patches everywhere. If this was my command, I'd have that shower of idle layabouts out scrubbing this place with toothbrushes until it shone. And this lift! Doors squeaking, no good. Need to get the sappers out. No place for squeaking doors. Give position away to the enemy, battle lost for want of a dab of grease. Can't be having that.
He steps onto the platform. More shabbiness! Muck between the rails. Should be polished until he can see his face in them, get men with brushes and dusters down there every night. Bit of spit and polish never hurt anyone. Bit of military-style discipline needed here. Spruce things up a bit. Make trains run on time. Not rocket science running a railway. Officers and men all need a rocket up the behind. Just teach them a little efficiency and discipline. Oh yes, he thinks, if they put him in charge of this place for six months it'd be running like clockwork.
Posted by mpk at July 1, 2004 5:14 PM | TrackBack(I was wondering when you'd get round to my local station.)
Given the fact that LU are in the midst of a huge refurb project of Kennington (with its own attending problems), I find it quite funny that the lifts doors still squeak sometimes as they close. :)
Posted by: Barry R at July 16, 2004 3:26 PM