Brexit and the waning days of the United Kingdom

[Sheilbh]

Also if you're caught in an easily disproved fabrication admit it. Say 'we went down the train for a photo shoot and we're sorry for misleading anyone, but we were trying to draw attention to x important issue....yadda yadda yadda'.

Don't just repeatedly double down

Sure - you say "we've had this problem in the past, but the day we were going to film the video there were actually seats available".

And yet,

But Corbyn's team appear to be sticking to the original story. Asked if it was true that the train wasn't full, a spokesperson for Corbyn's campaign told BuzzFeed News: "That's a lie. It was full and he gave his seat up so a woman could sit down. Others were sat in the aisles too!"
UPDATE:
Following extensive coverage of what is now being called #traingate, Corbyn's team released a fuller statement:
"When Jeremy boarded the train he was unable to find unreserved seats, so he sat with other passengers in the corridor who were also unable to find a seat.

"Later in the journey, seats became available after a family were upgraded to first class, and Jeremy and the team he was travelling with were offered the seats by a very helpful member of staff.

"Passengers across Britain will have been in similar situations on overcrowded, expensive trains. That is why our policy to bring the trains back into public ownership, as part of a plan to rebuild and transform Britain, is so popular with passengers and rail workers."

One positive of upside is I've discovered this sad/funny story:

From triumph to tragedy
It was a day of celebration - the first ever journey by train. But 60 minutes later, MP William Huskisson lay dying on the tracks, the inaugural victim of Britain's brave new world of railways
Simon Garfield
Sunday 13 October 2002 01.36 BST Last modified on Tuesday 15 October 2002 01.36 BST

Earlier this month, a conversation on the mid-morning Virgin train from Euston to Liverpool went like this:

Ticket inspector to passenger: This ticket is no good, sir.

Passenger: But I bought it yesterday.

Inspector: New timetables are in force. This is the 10.10 train. Your ticket is only suitable for a train that leaves Euston at 10.11.

Passenger: Well, why would they sell me a reserved seat for this train?

Inspector: I'll go and investigate.

While he was gone, I read the Virgin leaflet placed at every table. It was called New Trains - A New Beginning, and promised improvements in comfort, frequency and journey speeds. These included an audio system at every seat, an onboard shop selling puzzle magazines and travel draughts, a new club class with adjustable arm rests, and black-and-white-striped exterior doors 'so you can clearly see where to get on the train'. These new Voyagers and Pendolinos were being introduced across the Virgin network, and would soon reach 125mph. Alas, I read this on one of the old models, a three-hour cramped slog version with a wait before Crewe and unadjustable everything.

The morning's papers carried lots of rail news. The day before, ownership of the British railway system had passed from Railtrack to Network Rail, a not-for-profit organisation that promised to safeguard our 20,000 miles of track and 2,500 stations by employing more engineers and fewer financiers. Another story concerned a slow-paced collision of two passenger trains at Chichester, resulting in four minor injuries. Then I read how relatives of victims of the Potters Bar crash had started legal proceedings against Railtrack and others, five months after the accident killed seven and injured 40.

I was going to Liverpool to visit the site of another accident. It happened on the very first day of the railways, at the midpoint of the Liverpool and Manchester line on 15 September 1830. There had been other routes before, most concerned with transport of coal from mines to waterways, and the Stockton and Darlington line had caused a commotion when it opened in 1825, but the Liverpool and Manchester was the first inter-city passenger railway and the first to be driven entirely by George and Robert Stephenson's steam locomotives. It was also the first to draw the Prime Minister, the Duke of Wellington, to its opening festivities, and with him came ambassadors, celebrities and envious engineers from the United States. There was also an invitation for 60-year-old William Huskisson, one of Liverpool's two MPs, who had fallen out with Wellington over parliamentary reform and saw an opportunity to make amends.

Huskisson was one of Britain's leading statesmen, a great advocate of free trade, a liberal Tory on the cusp of a reformist age. He was also the most accident-prone MP in history. As a child he was frequently laid up with chest complaints. Once, rising from his bed to do schoolwork, he fractured his arm. His horse fell on him just before his marriage. He was flattened by the pole of a carriage at the entrance to Horse Guards. When in Scotland at the residence of the Duke of Athol, he tried to leap the moat but missed, savagely spraining his ankle and lacerating the tendons of his foot, the wrench of both permanently altering his gait and ensuring it would be weeks before he was able to travel back to England. A while later he fell from a horse, and again broke his arm. He snapped it again not long after, this time by falling from a carriage. In 1827 he received what he called a 'decided attack of inflammation of the trachea', a condition that rendered his voice permanently raspy. His recovery period in France did not begin well: at Calais he tripped on a cable and cut his foot.

Huskisson was advised not to attend the opening of the railway. A few weeks before, he had been diagnosed with strangury, a tender inflammation of the kidneys and bladder, lending him a constant but unfulfilled desire to pass water. He had first experienced these symptoms at the funeral of George IV at Windsor in July, when he was forced to seek shade and attention in St George's Chapel. His medical men advised an operation, and it made him miss his re-election. One of his doctors was William George Maton, physician to Queen Charlotte and the young Princess Victoria, who told him to cancel all forthcoming engagements. But there he was in the leading coach as eight trains set off in light rain on a 33-mile journey to Manchester, witnessed by hundreds of thousands of excited onlookers on the banks and bridges.

There had been great opposition to the railway, not least from the canal owners, who feared an end to their monopolies and ludicrous profits (the journey took 36 hours by canal, but only two by rail). The project was initially rejected by Parliament on the grounds that it was unnecessary, and would cause irreversible damage to cows and human lungs. Its engineers were pelted with missiles and shot at as they worked, and they took six years to navigate a path through rock and fathomless marsh. The railway's greatest supporter in the Commons was Huskisson, president of the Board of Trade, who was convinced Britain would fall behind unless it exploited new technologies. This was a life-changing advance, transporting people, goods and ideas at a velocity undreamt of even 20 years before; no wonder his ultra-Tory colleagues feared its impact in those revolutionary years.

The opening parade had not started well. Wellington was late, and when he did arrive the cannon blast announcing the start of the ride overshot its mark, its cladding hitting a bystander in the face and knocking out an eyeball so that it hung by its moist sinews on his cheek.

For the first 17 miles the journey was an ecstatic affair. The Northumbrian engine pulling the Duke and Huskisson led the way on one track, while seven others followed on the parallel line, among them the Rocket, the victor at the Rainhill trials a year before. The carriages passed collieries and mills and stately homes, and when they reached Parkside, a little over halfway in their journey, the engines required a stop to take on more water. This was the only planned pause, and passengers were asked not to leave their carriages. And so about 50 people descended from the train. Among them were the Austrian ambassador, Prince Esterhazy; William Holmes, MP, of the Treasury; the mayor of Liverpool, Sir George Drinkwater; principal director of the railway, Joseph Sandars; and Huskisson.

It was five minutes to noon. They milled about, discussed the wonders of rail travel, stepped gingerly in the 4ft space between the two lines. Huskisson congratulated Sandars and suggested, according to Sandars's recollection, that he must be 'one of the happiest men in the world'. Holmes then called Huskisson away, and made a suggestion: the Prime Minister seemed in good spirits, and might be persuaded to forget old political animosities.

Huskisson and Wellington had seldom spoken since May 1828 when Huskisson had offered his resignation from the Cabinet on a point of principle, and Wellington rushed to accept it. But the climate had changed: Wellington needed Huskisson and his supporters to reunite the Tory party, wrenching itself apart then as now. The Duke had witnessed his unpopularity in the streets, and he would not have been blind to Huskisson's great local approval.

The two men agreed to a public rapprochement. Huskisson approached the middle carriage of his train, where the Duke was sitting at the front corner. Huskisson extended his hand. The Prime Minister leant over the side and shook it, and words of goodwill were exchanged. Then a shout went up. 'An engine is approaching. Take care, gentlemen!' The approaching engine was the Rocket. It was impossible to tell whether it was slowing down, but there was plenty of time to avoid it.

The men on the track climbed back into their carriages, or clambered up the embankment. Their task would have been easier if the Duke's carriage had been fitted with permanent steps like the others. Instead, the royal car carried a removable flight of steps suspended at the back and there was no time to retrieve them. Most managed to reach safety with ease, though some panic set in with the engine 80 feet away. Another cry went up - Get in! Get in! - as Prince Esterhazy was hauled into the Duke's carriage by his hands and jacket. Only Holmes and Huskisson were left on the track. 'Mr Huskisson [...] became flurried,' the Liverpool Courier reported, 'and after making two attempts to cross the road upon which the Rocket was moving, ran back, in a state of great agitation, to the side of the Duke's carriage.'

The Rocket seemed to be slowing. Holmes and Huskisson clung to the side of the Duke's carriage, but then fear overcame them. This carriage was 8ft wide, and overhung the parallel rail by 2ft. The remaining 2ft gap between the carriage and the advancing engine should have been sufficient to ensure safety, but Huskisson began to move about. He manoeuvred his good leg over the side of the carriage, but those inside failed to pull him in. Holmes cried to him, 'For God's sake, Mr Huskisson, be firm!', at which point Huskisson grabbed the door of the carriage, which swung wide open, suspending him directly into the path of the engine. The Rocket hit the door, and Huskisson was flung beneath its wheels.

'The engine passed over his leg and thigh, crushing it in a most frightful way,' the society hostess Harriet Arbuthnot later observed. 'It is impossible to give an idea of the scene that followed, of the horror of everyone present or of the piercing shrieks of his unfortunate wife, who was in the car. He said scarcely more than, "It's all over with me. Bring me my wife and let me die." '

The Rocket stopped several yards from the collision, and passengers jumped out and ran back to the spot where Huskisson lay weltering in blood. He observed his split limb with revulsion and astonishment as it shook beyond his control.

Huskisson took nine hours to die. He was attended by surgeons at a nearby rectory, and amputation was considered a hopeless cause. As he lay dying, the celebrities and directors on the track argued about how best to proceed. Wellington favoured a return to Liverpool, fearful of a restless crowd at Manchester (Manchester, despite its industrial prominence, was still unrepresented in Westminster ). But the railway promoters feared something else: bad publicity if the journey were not completed. Already a pattern was taking shape on Britain's railways. The first day's journeying had produced a terrible accident, the trains were agonisingly late, and the directors were huddled in a group figuring how best to avoid taking responsibility.

Huskisson's funeral shut Liverpool for a morning, with tens of thousands lining the procession from the town centre to the new St James' cemetery. Mourners spoke of a much-loved local MP, a man who served the future; they could not have known that history would remember him as a victim.

My own train pulled into Liverpool on time, though without a return visit by the inspector. There are several memorials to Huskisson in the town, but the most significant is several miles out, just after Newton-Le-Willows on the Liverpool-Manchester line. Here there is a memorial on the accident site, raised up on the bank so that passengers of today may read of the horror and draw breath. Except they can't, because Parkside has disappeared, the intake of water neither a necessity nor a memory, and now even the slowest train rushes past, providing only the blurriest glimpse. The marble slab can be appreciated only if the train is delayed by a signal ahead, or if you slide down the bank on foot, a treacherous journey. It reads:

'This Tablet, a tribute of personal respect and affection, has been placed here to mark the spot where, on the 15th of September 1830 at the opening of the railroad The Right Honourable William Huskisson MP, singled out by an inscrutable Providence from the midst of the distinguished multitude that surrounded him, in the full pride of his talents and per fection of his usefulness, met with the accident that occasioned his death, which deprived England of an illustrious Statesman and Liverpool of its honoured Representative, which changed a moment of noblest exultation and triumph that science and genius had ever achieved into one of desolation and mourning, and striking terror into the hearts of assembled thousands, brought home to every bosom for the forgotten truth that - In the midst of life, we are in Death.'

The memorial in St James' Cemetery is vandalised on a regular basis, and no attempt has been made to protect it. His tomb is encased by a circular stone mausoleum, and it was once guarded by plate glass and a striking life-sized marble effigy of Huskisson by John Gibson. These have been replaced by steel bars and piles of garbage - drinks cans, clothing, a traffic cone - all rusting and rotting by Huskisson's side.

Riding on the Liverpool and Manchester railway today is a similarly dispiriting endeavour, though a reasonably efficient one. One may still marvel at the immense physical feats that carved a level journey out of so much rock and hillside, and at our present inability to control the temperature of the carriages. The line is insignificant now, unless you happen to use it, which is one way of explaining the state of ruin and neglect the British railways fell into before the Hatfield crash two years ago.

Fifteen years after this route opened, at the height of the railway boom, Liverpool's pioneers had been proved right: the world had changed beyond measure. From west to east, and from north to south, the mechanical principle, the philosophy of the nineteenth century, spread and extended itself. There were 272 railway Acts in 1846, and, in Wordsworth's accusatory phrase, no nook of English ground was secure from rash assault. By 1850 there were 6,200 miles of rail in Britain.

The Liverpool and Manchester railway remained independent until 1845, but since 1831 had begun accepting the freight wagons of many different individuals and companies, which leased the track on a monthly basis. In an attempt to limit profiteering, it was agreed that the owners and operators of the line would not be the sole operators of its traffic. In practical terms, this system proved shambolic, and created endless disputes over responsibility. Further confusion was caused by the addition of branch lines from Parkside to Wigan, Preston and Warrington, also managed independently of each other.

In 1839 a parliamentary committee heard how engine drivers developed dangerous and unproductive rivalries. Adrian Vaughan, a signalman, described a scenario in which 'the many and varied machines with their individualistic drivers, owing allegiance to a variety of employers, plied to and fro without much regard for safety: collisions were common [...] When damage occurred there would then be a row between the various parties as to who was to blame and who was to pay.' Today, 163 years later, you may detect a familiar ring.

Huskisson is a symbolic figure for us now, a patron saint of calamity. On 15 September 1830 people gathered to witness one story but departed with another, and at the time it was hard to judge which was the more significant - the birth or the death. The accident continues to provide us with one of those big, charming metaphors of progress: it announced a new force in the world, and the Rocket became the ultimate symbol of the new machine; old men wandering across its path didn't have much of a chance.

· This is an abridged extract from The Last Journey of William Huskisson by Simon Garfield, published by Faber on 21 October, £14.99.

[Josquius]

Looking at the video myself, I do only spot one or two unreserved seats. Who knows, maybe he's being honest?
But pretty daft of him not to sit in a reserved seat until the person owning it came, clearly just wanted the photo op.

Subsidy to the rail companies (in £ per passenger km) is back down to roughly the levels of the nadir of British Rail after soaring after Hatfield, and is also significantly lower than that of, for example, France or Germany. There are fundamental limitations to the restrictive British Loading Gauge that limits just how much the rail franchises can do via trains alone. Many of the most crowded lines are at saturation point with the additional trains they are running compared to the British Rail days.

You and Tyr should have tried living on a line that British Rail left a distant third or more place in priorities from inception as my family did before being all nostalgic for the nationalised past of our railways.

I could only dream of living on a line that was a distant 3rd in terms of priorities.
My town had its passenger service cut in the 50s and then the government salted the earth so to speak, after destroying the local economy in the 80s they then pulled up the railway lines to make sure it could never be reinstated.
Luckily the local government kept the trackbed intact, so who knows down the line.

I don't see what your town's crappy service has to do with nationalisation. Plenty of places today have terrible service and routes that the franchises run are mandated.

It's interesting to note that as of 2013, despite the apparent desire of the British public for renationalisation, that our railways were both the safest in Europe and had one of the highest satisfaction ratings according to the EU (compare Britain's 78% rating with Germany's 51% for example; didn't Tyr above hold up Germany as an example of success... )

I've never actually used the German railway TBH, next month will be my first time. From all I've read however they have a very good system indeed.

[Sheilbh]

Continuing in my ability to catastrophically misread the British people

Virgin Trains controversy 'has helped Jeremy Corbyn's leadership bid'
Labour leader's campaign team say public argument with Sir Richard Branson has 'done us a favour', by highlighting Corbyn's desire to re-nationalise railways
Heather Stewart and Rajeev Syal
Wednesday 24 August 2016 20.44 BST Last modified on Wednesday 24 August 2016 22.46 BST

Jeremy Corbyn's campaign team believe his public spat with Virgin trains boss Sir Richard Branson has boosted his chances in the Labour leadership race.

Sam Tarry, the Labour leader's campaign director, told the Guardian that "from the point of view of the people we want to mobilise, Richard Branson's done us a favour".

Labour's already fractious leadership campaign had become dominated in the last two days by the controversy.

Corbyn himself reacted angrily on Wednesday after being repeatedly asked about the row by journalists.

But Tarry, a Labour councillor in Barking and Dagenham with links to the TSSA transport union, insisted the public spat had helped Corbyn, by highlighting his pledge to re-nationalise the railways. Tarry had earlier described Branson as a "tax exile" who was "laughing all the way to the bank".

Corbyn faced several questions over his account of sitting on the floor of a "ram-packed" Virgin service at an event on Wednesday, held to launch Labour's health policies in London.

The rail operator disputed his story of being forced to sit on the floor of a crowded train, releasing CCTV footage of him apparently walking past free seats.

Confronted about the row, Corbyn repeated the explanation his camp gave on Tuesday night, saying: "I boarded a crowded train with a group of colleagues; we journeyed through the train looking for places; there wasn't a place for all of us to sit down, and so for 40 minutes or so we remained on the floor of the train, in the vestibule." He explained that a sympathetic train manager later found seats for him and his team, including his wife, by upgrading other passengers.

Asked about the issue again by a Sky journalist later in the press conference, Corbyn initially refused to answer. "Can we have an NHS question?" he asked. But he went on to say: "Yes, I did look for two empty seats together to sit with my wife, so I could talk to her."

Corbyn added that he hoped Branson was "well aware of our policy, which is that train operating companies should become part of the public realm, not the private sector".

Inside Corbyn's team, key advisers were scrambling to understand how the row had run out of control on Tuesday, with some in the leaders' office – which is run separately to the campaign – complaining of too much freelancing.

Corbyn's leadership team are said to have become increasingly frustrated at aggressive briefings in the press, including against the deputy leader, Tom Watson, and party chairman, Iain McNicol, and suggestions that Corbyn could launch a "purge" of party figures if he wins the leadership election in September.

One Labour source compared the campaign's chaotic approach to that of a "pound shop Malcolm Tucker" — referring to the foul-mouthed spin doctor in political satire The Thick of It. Another complained that the leader was impossible to reach for some time on Tuesday because he was making jam.

Corbyn was speaking alongside the shadow health secretary, Diane Abbott, at the health policy launch. The pair announced a series of measures, including a pledge to restore nurses' bursaries and to attempt to buy hospitals out of costly private finance initiative contracts.

Student nurse Danielle, introducing Corbyn, said: "To take away the bursary will not only deter students, it is one of the most insulting things I have seen this government do since they came to office."

Corbyn also said he would support a private members' bill tabled by Labour backbencher Margaret Greenwood aimed at unpicking the internal market in the NHS.

That approach received support from David Owen, former Labour health secretary and one of the founders of the Social Democratic party. "For the first time in 14 years we have the leader of the Labour party today unequivocally committing the party to reversing the legislation which has created in England a broken down market-based healthcare system," Lord Owen said.

"Surely now the whole Labour movement can combine together, left, right and centre to make this official party policy at this year's autumn conference."

However, there is still an open question over whether the conference will proceed, with the issue over what firm will provide security still unresolved, after the national executive committee voted to boycott longstanding provider G4S.

Key Labour-supporting unions Unite and the GMB are at loggerheads over the issue. The Unite general secretary, Len McCluskey, in a letter to the GMB's Tim Roache, seen by the Guardian, said it was clear the conference would not go ahead following a GMB boycott.

"It is the responsibility of the general secretary of the Labour party, Iain McNicol, to implement decisions or to deal with any problems that may arise," McCluskey wrote. "I am astonished that we are only four to five weeks to conference and that he has not done so.

"It is quite evident that in the event of a GMB boycott of conference, it simply won't proceed and the blame would lay squarely at the feet of Iain McNicol."

Separately, it emerged that Virgin Trains faces an investigation by the data protection watchdog over its release of the CCTV footage.

Officials at the Information Commissioner's Office are making inquiries over whether the train operator, owned by Branson, broke the rules of the Data Protection Act, which governs the release of such data.

If only there were some hint of who the pound shop Tucker might be.

[Richard Hakluyt]

No offence Sheilbh but I have concluded that you, me and mongers are amazingly unknowledgeable about how the British people think...............perhaps we are just too finely formed 

[garbon]

Continuing in my ability to catastrophically misread the British people

Unless I'm missing something I don't see anything but an assertion? I have seen people decrying how the media is deflecting from the important issue that Corbyn was raising.

[Admiral Yi]

Others were sat in the aisles too!

This to me is the weirdest Britishism ever.

[Josquius]

Others were sat in the aisles too!

This to me is the weirdest Britishism ever.

Aisles?
What would you say? Alley?

[jimmy olsen]

I've yet to be on an overly crowded British train whereas every train I've taken in German was overly crowded. Thankfully I always had a seat reservation.

The train to Vienna was ridiculous. The numbers were all fucked up. Seat 44 was next to seat 46, and across the aisle from it seat 12 was next to seat 18. What the fuck!?

[jimmy olsen]

Others were sat in the aisles too!

This to me is the weirdest Britishism ever.

Aisles?
What would you say? Alley?

Aisles is right.

It's the "were sat" that's mind bending. People in the US would assume you were fresh off the boat if you mangled grammar like that. The English teachers I had back in the day would have flayed you alive for that.

[Richard Hakluyt]

I think corridors is the more usual term.

We haven't really bothered with grammar here in the UK for at least 50 years, I was never taught any till it became time to learn some French.

[Monoriu]

I think corridors is the more usual term.

We haven't really bothered with grammar here in the UK for at least 50 years, I was never taught any till it became time to learn some French.

You guys are the gold standard that we all try to follow 

[Tamas]

I think corridors is the more usual term.

We haven't really bothered with grammar here in the UK for at least 50 years, I was never taught any till it became time to learn some French.

I don't know how you can do it

I am only now starting to give up my quest to find the hidden logic linking the written and pronounced versions of words together.

I think it a bit more grammar rules would actually make the language easier. Because it is quite easy right now, the biggest hurdle for a foreigner like me is that just because you read or hear a word, it doesn't mean you get the faintest idea how you are supposed to pronounce or write it.

In Hungarian once you learned how to pronounce our letters individually, you can correctly pronounce almost all of our words after their written form without ever hearing them

But to compensate, our other grammar rules are complicated like hell.

[celedhring]

Worst part of it is that regional dialects will pronounce the same word in wildly different ways. I gave up ages ago trying to figure out English pronunciation, I just wing it on the spot.

[Martinus]

At the risk of sounding like an old lady trying to join the conversation from another table again, are you guys talking about "aisles" vs "corridors" in the context of airplanes? Because I have always used "aisles" for that.

[Zanza]

I've yet to be on an overly crowded British train whereas every train I've taken in German was overly crowded. Thankfully I always had a seat reservation.

The train to Vienna was ridiculous. The numbers were all fucked up. Seat 44 was next to seat 46, and across the aisle from it seat 12 was next to seat 18. What the fuck!?

That's due to some ancient booking system that can't be easily replaced as lots of systems have been built around it.