There's an old verbal put-down a friend used to come out with: 'That's a reason, not an excuse." It's one of those catch-all clinchers that rarely fails.
And since I've been slogging it out on the train each day, at the mercy of delays and cancellations, I've begun to fantasise of ways it could be shared with the management of our beloved rail operators.
It seems someone beat me to it with a figurative interpretation in bog roll, in one of the toilet scuttles. I'd have preferred a more literal approach — but here was true economy of insult. 'Your service is ****. Please clean it up."
Still the excuses trundle in. To give them their due, the staff seem pretty unenthused about the official lines they're expected to come out with. Often the announcements are preceded by a tortured sigh.
This week, having been herded on to the Bournemouth train after the 18.38 FGW was cancelled ("withdrawn from service" — how nice), I stood for 15 minutes on a platform at Reading while a kindly freight train broke down blocking our route. The tanoy relayed what must be considered the last resort apology before FGW staff offer lifts to passengers in their cars.
In her ridiculous mixture of Estuary and UC, the announcer told us: "I am extremely sorry for the severe delay to this service."
As it was impossible to assault the tanoy system, I had to make do with bludgeoning my empty coffee cup in impotent rage (there are no bins on concourses anymore). There is something gloriously impertinent in having an electronically recorded message assume personal responsibility for late trains.
On another day, an actual person spoke to apologise for a 15 minute wait "for an available platform". He took a slightly different line to the usual apology:
"I'm sorry for the 15-minute delay this evening, but you are virtually on time, which is a lot better than most trains this evening."
That put me in mind of the game of Hobson's choice, where you have to decide between the proverbial rock and the hard place. For instance, which historical evil dictatorship to live under, based on the severity of repression and the number of killings. I think, in the end, we plumped for General Pinochet's regime in Chile, largely because of the weather — but Josef 'the grumpy Georgian' Stalin came a close second.
What else have we had?
One of the longest delays into Paddington was down to broken windscreen wipers. I remember wondering with increasing impatience, how many precious seconds could really be gained in noticing an oncoming locomotive. I've never heard of accidents being averted with the heroic application of a pair of wipers.
But I suppose my personal favourite was a delay travelling up the East coast to Edinburgh. After a 20-minute stoppage outside the city, the driver came on the PA to explain that "some wee b@st***s had got on the track and were running around." While it was his preference to "mow the buggers down", apparently that didn't comply with company guidelines.
As excuses go, it seemed pretty convincing.