LOCK-IN AT WATERLOO, BUT NO BEER

I was on the 18.20 Yeovil Junction to Waterloo train. Thought I’d treat myself to a DVD on the laptop. The film hadn’t quite finished when we pulled into Waterloo, so I was waiting for a convenient moment to shut down the computer and pack stuff away. Gathering my stuff to get off the now stationary train, I heard a whoosh and a click, but thought little of it, other than the fact I had noticed it.

The train had been standing a couple of minutes. On trying to leave the train I find that the doors are locked and I’m the only person on it. That was the whoosh and the click then. No cleaners, just me and six empty carriages on a platform at ten o’clock at night.

Walking through from one end of the train to the other, all the doors are locked, and I am trapped. Visions of spending the night on it begin to pas through my mind.

Bastards.

At the front of the train is a jacket and a backpack on a seat – belonging to the guard no doubt.

But he is not in the locked driver’s cab. I know this, because I was banging and kicking furiously, as I had been all the way through the train, trying to get somebody’s attention. Booting the doors in the hope of being heard.

I’d been up and down three times and found myself back at the front of the train near the platform exit. Finally, after about ten minutes of rage, I was thinking about calling 999 on my mobile to get the cops to ring someone at Waterloo and get me out of there.

I was just about to press ‘send’ when, through the door, I saw some bloke sauntering towards the train with a mug of tea in his hand. He put in his key, opened the door and nearly dropped his brew when he was confronted with me in his face.

I said, “Thanks – I was just about to dial the cops. I’ve been up and down kicking and banging for ten minutes here.”

“Don’t you fucking people ever bother to check that everyone is off the train before you lock it up and fuck off?”

He looked sheepish and apologised, saying the cleaners should be on the train. I replied, “Well they’re not – I’m the only c*nt on it.”

Bastard South West Trains. Welcome to London. What a load of shit. After that, I now I have to deal with the tube and all the nobs who ride that late at night, followed by a twenty minute walk through bandit country to get to my digs near Wembley.

What a fucking great start to the week.

Bill Turnip.