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I have ceased dancing in trains. OK, that’s an out and out lie, I admit it. I still dance. But lately you are more likely to see me hurtling past with a pensive look and a scant regard for braking distances. Other times you might see my train flying into a station with apparently no driver as I am doubled up with laughter. Or you might see me skidding round a bend in the track with a look of horror on my face. Though now that I think of it, that happens sometimes anyway. Seriously? Those shoes with THAT coat? And what the hell have you done to that poodle?!

At present my emotional rollercoaster ride is not caused by the fashion faux pas of the travelling public. It’s because a friend has started a new job. He is now our Emergency Planning Manager. This is a big responsibility and not as poggs queried, because he spends his day planning emergencies for us to have.

Or….is it?

I’ve found myself itching to email over a few queries about his new role. Such as, for example, what he plans to do if there’s a sudden zombie invasion? And what happens if somebody pulls the plug out of the Thames one day? Has he figured out how well a train floats? And is it really true that water will would surge up the Bakerloo and Northern lines as far as Paddington and King’s X respectively? What happens if somebody cocks up with a tunnel boring monster machine again as happened few years ago. What am I supposed to do if I suddenly encounter one of these in a tunnel? Are they like dentists’ drills and cut out when they encounter something soft like a traindriver? Or will they just keep going? And do we have contingency plans for moving around them? OH MY GOD! HOW DO I STEER??? HOW DO I STEER??????????? Suppose there’s an earthquake and we sink upside down and have to get out as the water rises until…oh wait, that’s The Poseiden Adventure.

As you can see, the role of emergency planning manager is no simple undertaking. Not least because the current incumbent has some friends with wild imaginations and too much time to spend daydreaming. But it seems that I am not the only person ever to have considered the emergencies we might find ourselves having. For SNCF have seen fit to warn their customers not to leave the train lest they be eaten by a scary dinosaur. You know what that means, don’t you? Somewhere in France there’s somebody dreaming up insane emergencies and I’m betting that their name is Retardes Graves.