The legacy of Chris Grayling was clear to everyone yesterday as the British rail network comprehensively failed to cope with the weather.
Chris Grayling was hot.
The ex-Transport Minister opened his fridge. The door swung into the kitchen worktop and several plates fell to the floor; they didn’t smash though – his wife had long ago replaced all the crockery with disposable paper items.
He grabbed a beer and attempted to twist off the cap, cutting his hand quite badly.
After trying and failing to open one of those fiddly plasters (so many little bits to peel off!) he just wrapped his bleeding palm in one of his wife’s blouses.
Unable to find a bottle opener he decided to use the arm of a living room chair. He succeeded only in smashing off the bottle’s neck; beer gushed onto the carpet.
Shit, his wife was gonna be mad.
Grayling got down on all fours and started sucking the beer out of the carpet fibres. It was still refreshing if a little polypropyleney for his tastes.
On the TV a news report was showing the carnage on the railways – overhead cables downed, trains stuck in tunnels for hours, passengers in severe danger of dehydration.
It was all the result of a badly managed rail network not fit for purpose. A public service where the ‘public’ and ‘service’ elements were secondary concerns, flies in the ointment of profiteering.
A refusal to take charge of the Southern Rail timetable change. The botched handling of the East Coast franchise. Billions of precious taxpayer pounds wasted.
Chris Grayling surveyed the result of his incompetence as he stubbornly sucked dregs of hope from a beer-soaked carpet.
“Whoops!” he thought.