Afternoon:
10°c
I live in a quarter of London into which the Tube has never ventured. I'm not sure why this should be - I like to imagine that it's the result of some long-forgotten Victorian turf war in which Tube trains venturing beyond New Cross were set upon by gangs of thuggish steam engines wielding those massive, iron Speak Your Weight machines which all stations used inexplicably to have on their platforms.
At any rate, the upshot is that round here the overland is king. Consequently, I feel rather proprietorial about it and when the likes of our Glorious Leader, Bozzer Jozzer, start standing in front of new ones, taking credit for something their predecessor set up, I like to know what exactly they are up to.
What are these strange new trains of which he speaks? Air conditioning was that? CCTV, did he say? "The standard of design will surprise even the most hardened traveller," will it? Lawks.
Well, looking at the pictures of the carriage interiors the major innovation appears to be the removal of most of the seats. This is an excellent idea. I don't know why no one thought of it before.
Obviously, the reason that so many people feel uncomfortable under the present, outmoded "seat" system is that there are simply too many people able to take the weight off their feet, which only makes everyone standing feel bad.
With fewer seats there will be a greater sense of solidarity amongst the standers, allowing them a sense of smug righteousness normally only experienced by people attending fringe meetings at a Lib-Dem conference - a feeling which should buoy them to the terminus.
In fact, why don't they get rid of the seats altogether and fit out the carriages like those buses that take you from your plane to the terminal?
Then we can all enjoy that lovely, bonding experience of the damn thing unexpectedly lurching to a halt and everyone piling into each other like a massive, involuntary game of British Bulldog.
You may think that I am complaining. And you'd be right. Well done, you. Have a point. You may think that this complaining is a bad thing. You would be wrong. Give me that point back.
In fact, complaining about rail travel is one of the Great British Pastimes, like making up statistics during arguments or spending unnecessary emotional energy getting cross about Diana Memorial Things.
It's been with us so long that it is no longer simply something we do - it is a part of us.
That is why I see these new trains as a tremendous step forwards. They will do nothing but cause complaint and rancour and that can only be a good thing.
In these times, when Britishness is otherwise beset on all sides by the likes of cheery shop assistants and food that isn't made with suet, it's good to know that at least we will always be able to mither on about the trains.
In fact, I like to think that's what Ken intended when he commissioned the wretched things in the first place.
Save Twitter for us old folk
Teenagers don't use Twitter, apparently. The papers seem shocked by this. I don't know why; my entire understanding of teenagers comes from those same papers and it seems obvious to me that they wouldn't have time to tweet what with all the drink and drugs and getting tattooed.
Or perhaps they simply prefer not to. Different strokes for different folks. One man's noise pollution is another (younger) man's sitting on the bus blasting Kanye West out of a Nokia, after all.
Whatever the reason, I consider their absence from Twitter a good thing. I have nothing against teenagers, apart from the standard issue bitter envy of a man in his thirties for anyone younger and more sexually active than him but I like the idea of a social networking site where I've less chance of encountering emoticons and ridiculous acronyms like 'LOL' (it means "laugh out loud", granddad) and 'ISIOTSINIWTLAM' ("I'm sorry - I'm over 20 so I've no idea what that last acronym meant").
In fact, I might set up a Twitter-style service for like-minded fogeys in which instead of each message having to be 140 characters or less, they will have to be of at least 140 syllables. Correctly spelt. That should do it.
• Now look, this "designer" book of the world's top wine producers that's going to cost £604,000. No matter how you try to look at it, that does seem, on the face of it, a little on the pricey-ish side, even if it does come with cases of wine from those mentioned.
However, if you do fancy buying it but you're not sure what the going rate for one of your kidneys is these days, do bear in mind that £604,000 is only the list price. I bet they're doing it cheaper on Amazon.
Or you could wait for a couple of weeks and it'll probably be part of a 3 for 2 at Waterstones. Or if you really can't stretch to it, send us 12 quid 50 and I'll do you a list of supermarkets in a jaunty fount and a half bottle of hock. Usual address.
• I was concerned to read Bozzer Jozzer, asked about the £250,000 he earns from writing for newspapers, remarking that knocking an article out of a Sunday morning is his way of relaxing after a hard week's doing whatever it is he imagines mayors do.
I'm not sure you can practically combine the two jobs because by an extraordinary coincidence, I relax on a Sunday morning with a casual bit of running London.
You know the bendy buses? That was me. Sorry. I only bought them because the man who sold them to me assured me that when stopping at traffic lights they squeeze up and play a tune like an accordion.
Watch out, Bozzer, that's all I'm saying.
