Virgin High Speed Bollox

The Fat Controller at Virgin Trains inflates himself like a malignant toad and croaks "Hurrah, it's a great day for British locomotion. One of our super-fast trains has hurtled from Glasgow to London in the astounding time of 3 hours 55 mins. A record! Let all rejoice. Three cheers for Virgin, Hip Hip...."

"Errrrrmm Mr Fat Controller Sir, Sir please Sir!"

"What is it??" "Do you have a ticket to be here?" "Who are you?"

"Reginald Sir, I collect Train numbers when you let me. And I have me ticket 'ere, look it's a super-advanced only to be ordered at 06.15am -06.17am on a Friday in a month with five Thursdays. It's a bit of a collector's piece, Sir, look."

"OK, OK so you're allowed to travel on my super-fast, modern, sexy trains. Do you love every second? Of course you do. What's that smell?"

"It's me cheese and pickle sandwiches, Sir. Us spotters are a bit addicted to 'em."

"Why are you interrupting me?" said the Fat Controller, idly wondering why they allowed people to bring food on to his trains, surely they could ban that, and then they would have to buy...the idea crawled through his brain like a maggot through the blown meat of his brain.

"Well, Sir, you said your train is fast, and yes it's a record for Britain, but I've travelled on them there TGVs and they're shit hot. I could get on a train at that Gare de Lions and be at Marsails in sniffing distance of those fish soups in three hours and that's about 470 miles as the corbeau flies or there about. Now your train travels at an average of 102 mph but those TGVs they lick along at an average of 157 mph. I don't think those trains of yours are that fast are they?"

Like a traffic light the Fat Controller's skin changed from suppuratent green to incadescent red.

"Get this man out of here! He's a terrorist! Have him banged up on a Virgin Special to Hartlepool, with no toilets and an automatic door that opens and closes for no reason every ten seconds. Get him out of here, NOW!!"