A Stretch In Limousin – RSVP

On 4th May, 2001, I emailed a complaint to various London transport service providers, and the mayor. Looking at it now, I feel a little embarrassed by its rantiness, but to be fair, I was very stressed.

Only the mayor’s secretary and Mr Patrick Green of London Underground responded. Sadly, neither response was particularly satisfying. Sadder still, Mr Green’s response was rather rude. So I wrote back, and a correspondence ensued.

Then – when I thought it was all over and done with – Mr Green accidentally copied me into another correspondence he’d been having with two of his colleagues at LU, and one David Laurence, a lawyer at prestigious law firm Herbert Smith, who were at the time representing London Underground. Maybe they still are. I do hope so. The errant email was about me. The cheeky blighters had been talking about me behind my back.

Here, to mark the occasion of this week’s 24-hour tube strike, is the correspondence in full. I hope it brings you pleasure. (Oh, I was Graham Pond at the time.)

THE OPENING GAMBIT

Email address supplied
Mr Graham Pond
Address Supplied

Friday 4th May, 2001

Dear sir, or madam – it doesn’t matter

I was on one of your cattle-truck trains this morning and I screamed. A long, loud everything-in-it scream. Then I found myself pugnaciously facing down curious fellow passengers, aggressively demanding to know what they were looking at.

This behaviour is extraordinarily uncharacteristic. It is not me. On the contrary, it is you.

For the purposes of this letter, ‘you’ are Thameslink, London Underground, South West Trains, Docklands Light Rail, etc. I have sent a copy of this letter to each of you, but the fact is that you are interchangeable and one and the same. And, the sad fact is, you are driving me mad, you are bleeding me dry and you are making me want to kill. Really. To kill.

I spend over a hundred pounds every month on public transport in and around London. This is well in excess of a thousand pounds every year. This, now that I come to think of it, is over 10% of my annual net income.

Over 10% of every penny I earn goes into your unworthy pockets. And what do you with it? Fuck knows. I don’t.

Oh, one quick aside. I hope you won’t mind if I take a moment to pre-empt any qualms you may have concerning my use of what you may choose to label ‘foul’ or ‘profane’ language. The manner in which I express myself is absolutely none of your concern. You are personally and professionally obliged to attend to content only, and not to style. And despite the fact that there is almost certainly worse to come, there is no way, even in an infinite number of eternities, that a peppering of ‘dirty words’ in a letter of complaint could possibly offend as much as the vicious cocktail of years and years of infuriating incompetence and intolerable, most certainly criminal greed and neglect that you continue to serve up to paying customers such as myself. Believe me, however the fuck I like, I will have my say.

This is not a specific complaint. This is not even a gob of spit. This is a fist to your throat, a cancer-tipped bullet fired deep into your soul.

I used to keep lists of specific complaints – weekly they snowballed. I’ve even sent a few off in my time, but what’s the point when you’re specifically paid to not give a flying fuck? When the ethos of a public service provider is to make as large a profit as is humanly possible and in the process to spend the bare minimum of the money you make on providing the skeleton of a ‘decent service’, to cut corners, to fob off complainants, to deceive as much is possible whilst ensuring that you never actually appear as cash-centred and rapacious and neglectful and destructive as you actually are – in this moral environment, what exactly is the point of complaining? With people dying every other month because of your idiotic greed, what is the point? Well, it makes me feel better, that is the point. So let’s get on with it.

I mean, do you ever consider, even for a second, the consequences of the shoddy piss-poor service you provide? And let’s put aside the Southall, Clapham, Ladbroke Grove, Hatfield and so on. They form just the main body of the iceberg and are really too obvious to need expanding upon. Neither am I thinking of the fortunes lost as a direct result of your quotidian tardiness, eroded tracks or impromptu and unexplained cancellations – not just your fortunes either – consider your commuters, forced by enforced lateness to miss appointments, lose contracts, etc. I’m not really thinking about any of that. I’m thinking primarily here, about people.

Let’s talk about it.

The most obvious consequence of your fucked-up service is stress. When one of your trains is late and no explanation is offered, no apology proffered; when a train is cancelled at the last minute; when the train after the cancellation is stuffed full of angry, sweating punters; when timetables lie compulsively; when a poorly-trained and badly-paid member of staff is rude or ill-informed; when every queue stretches like a life sentence to the dithering dolt at the ticket window and the ten minutes you have before your train is due to leave start to speed up; when the ticket machine won’t help you because, either your bank note isn’t as crisp as the day it was minted, or there is no ticket available that caters for the full journey you wish to make, or, more often than not, the piece of junk is simply out of order; in short, when travelling by train makes being stuck in a twelve hour traffic jam on the M25 seem like a picnic in paradise, because at least then you have your own space and no expectations – when all of this happens on a daily basis, day after day after day after day after day after day after day, people tend to get stressed. And when people get stressed, they get angry and impatient and unreasonable. Some of them scream. Some mutter imprecations under their breath. Some of them pull a machete out of their briefcase and start butchering suits. All of them however, all of them become unhappy and anxious.

Stress leads to ill health, and by extension, to premature death.

You, ergo, are a murderer. A mass murderer.

Why don’t you do your job properly? Hmm? No-one expects everything to run smoothly and without a hitch. No-one expects every train to run on time. That would be unreasonable. What is not unreasonable, however, is to expect one or two trains every now and then to run on time, to expect to pay a reasonable and not an extortionate price for… My God. What on earth am I talking about? You see how our standards our systematically lowered by incompetence and ignorance? Of course we should expect every train to run on time – every single train – and if one fails to run on time, we should at the very least receive a damn good explanation, a grovelling apology and financial compensation – something in the region of a pound – cash, on the spot – for every minute you keep us waiting. Not just track possession penalty payments for the other fat cats who milk the public dry, but one pound sterling for every minute for every single ordinary customer. That’d blow the fucking leaves off your track, eh?

I heard recently that you’re receiving more complaints than ever before. Well, let’s hope that’s true. Hopefully if enough people do complain, eventually, you will be forced to begin providing a decent service. And if you don’t, hopefully the culture of complaint will evolve and become something altogether more active, more physical. I’m not a violent man, but I can’t stop myself wishing sick tortures upon you, whoever you are, whatever you are.

So. What are you going to do about it? You could start by halving your fares, which let’s face it, are daylight robbery. Or you could start by listening to your customers. We are, after all, always right, and we demand change. We demand satisfaction.

Or how about you start by offering me a reasonable response to this letter? It has taken me a while to compose. I’m sure you have enough intelligence – no, I pray you have enough intelligence to realise that this is a thoughtful heartfelt response to a serious problem that effects not just London, but every sprawling urban settlement on the planet. How about you do that then, to start with – how about you respond to my criticisms, and equally intelligently? If there is something I haven’t understood, explain it to me.

The poor quality of your service is a serious problem and one which sooner or later will lead to violence. I am not the only one at the end of my tether. Rail Rage is going to be all over the front pages unless you address the issues raised in this letter. This is not a threat. This is an observation. A copy of this letter shall be forwarded to various regional rail service providers and various relevant political figureheads, including the Mayor of London, the Prime Minister and Jeffrey Archer.

I look forward to receiving a prompt and considered reply.

Yours sincerely,

Graham Pond

___________________

RESPONSE #1

7th May, 2001

Dear Mr Pond

Thank you for your email. If you are dissatisfied with London Underground’s services I suggest that you avoid using them. Perhaps you may consider also a stress management course.

Yours sincerely

Patrick Green
Customer Service Centre
London Underground Limited

___________________

COUNTER #1

Saturday 11th May, 2001

Dear Mr Green

Thank you for your considered response to my comments. I asked for an intelligent reply, and I cannot claim to have been disappointed.

Sadly, like so many of your customers, I rather rely on London Underground to get me from A to B of a morning, which, after a fashion, I cannot deny that it does, so I’m afraid it would be impractical for me to take your advice and avoid using it. Would that there were a realistic alternative.

Vis-à-vis your strangely prescient suggestion that I consider a stress management course, I have decided to go one better and start running one. As a fitness trainer, I already run courses in body sculpture at a number of city gymnasia, so diversifying should not take too much effort.

I would like to close by saying that although I appreciate your sentiments, I also recognise that you have not answered a single one of the points I raised and have thus proven yourself to be every bit the ignorant negligent chutney ferret I always had you pegged as. Clearly, when taken to task over your lack of professionalism, your only response is to turn tail and plead ignorance. Sadly, my lawyer informs me that you are well within your rights. Oh well. I suppose I have to accept that this is the sort of world we live in. All I can really do is plead with you to reassess your immoral worldview and shape up before it’s too late.

I would also appreciate a written apology for your rudeness.

Yours sincerely,

Graham Pond

___________________

RESPONSE #2

16th May, 2001

Dear Mr Pond

Thank you for your latest email. I apologise profusely for any perceived rudeness in my last email to you; I can assure you that none was intended. I am delighted that you have expanded on my advice, but am startled by your definition of Jeffrey Archer as a relevant political figurehead.

I hope you have an enjoyable weekend.

Yours sincerely

Patrick Green
Customer Service Centre
London Underground Limited

___________________

COUNTER #2

Wednesday 20th June

Dear Mr Green

Apology accepted. And thank you for your good wishes. As it so happens I have had a number of wonderful weekends since last we spoke, nipping down to the cottage in Caernarfon with a couple of game ‘uns. Treks in the morning, rabbit pie in the afternoon, and lots of relaxing coke-fuelled sex the rest of the time.

With reference to Lord Archer, believe me, anyone with balls that big will always be relevant and will always have a response worth hearing. Unfortunately I’ve yet to track the bugger down. You wouldn’t happen to have his e-mail address, would you?

Yours once again

Pond

___________________

RESPONSE #3

Thursday 21 June

Dear Mr Pond

Thank you for your most recent email and gracious acceptance of my apology. I am pleased that you are having relaxing and recreational weekends.

Sadly I do not possess Lord Archer’s email address. I suspect, however, that the current legal wrangles that he is embroiled in may render him incommunicado for some time.

Yours sincerely
Patrick Green
Customer Service Centre Communications Manager
London Underground Limited

___________________

THE ERRANT EMAIL

[I have included the legal nonsense which came with the email because under the circumstances, I find it rather amusing.]

This e-mail is confidential and intended solely for the use of the individual to whom it is addressed. If you are not the intended recipient, please notify the sender immediately. Do not disclose the contents to any other person, use it for any purpose, or store or copy the information in any medium. Please delete any copies you may have.

Any views expressed in this message are those of the individual sender except where the sender specifically states them to be the views of London Underground Limited (‘LUL’) and/or its subsidiaries. LUL does not accept liability for any errors or omissions arising as a result of transmission.

If verification is required please request a hard copy. Any liability (in negligence or otherwise) arising from any third party acting, or refraining from acting, on any information contained in this e-mail is hereby excluded.

Copyright in this e-mail and attachments belongs to LUL: the author also asserts the right to be identified as such and object to misuse. Should you communicate with anyone within LUL and/or its subsidiaries by e-mail you consent to the monitoring and recording of any such correspondence by LUL and/or its subsidiaries.

London Underground Limited
Registered Office: 55 Broadway, London SW1H 0BD
Registered in England and Wales no. 1900907
A subsidiary of London Regional Transport

*******************

This message is confidential and may be covered by legal professional privilege.
If you have received this message in error, please delete it from your system. If you require assistance, please contact our London IT helpdesk. Thank you.

(e-mail helpdesk@herbertsmith.com; phone +44 (0)20 7333 8888).

___________________

—–Original Message—–

From: “Green Patrick (CSC)”
To: Paul J Stubbings
Date: Wed, 20 Jun 2001
Subject: RE: Pond Life

Comrade Paul

Just when I’d given up hope Mr. P is back. The invective is gone, I have yet to think of a reply. Any suggestions gratefully received.

Paddy

[Copy of the above COUNTER #2 pasted onto email.]

……………….

—–Original Message—–
From: Paul J Stubbings
To: “Green Patrick (CSC)”
Sent: 22 June 2001
Subject: RE: Pond Life

Comrade Paddy,

How about:

Dear Mr Pond,

I am glad that your social life has taken a turn for what you deem to be the better, though obviously I cannot approve of your reacreational drug-taking or your admiration for Lord Archer.

I hope that you will continue to use London Underground’s services.

Yours, etc.

……………….

—–Original Message—–
From: “Green Patrick (CSC)”
To: Paul J Stubbings
Date: Fri, 22 Jun 2001
Subject: RE: Pond Life

Comrade

Already responded with the rather weedy one below. Have a great
weekend

P

[Copy of Green's RESPONSE #3]

___________________

—–Original Message—–

From: “Green Patrick (CSC)”
To: Steven Pepper
CC: Paul J Stubbings

Shteve

Please read starting at the bottom and going up. Your expert analysis would be gratefully received. Paul thanks for your input. Mr Pond could form part of an o-level english lit syllabus.

“Mr Pond an urban realist or rural fantasist.” Elucidate is the type of question we could pose to the youngsters.

Paddy

[Copy of Pond and Green’s correspondence in full.]

……………….

—–Original Message—–
From: Steven Pepper
To: “Green Patrick (CSC)”

Hi Pad

Sorry I missed your call at the weekend. Wedding, see. I am destroyed with porther. Have been on the wagon much of the time and the old tolerance goes to shite, don’t it.

I would not encourage Mr Pond. I suspect that not only is he a homosexual, he is also a paedophile. He enters into dialogue with strangers because he sees it as validating his existence and therefore his activities. I suspect you are thus already a third party accessory to the anal rape of a small child. How can you live with yourself?

How’s Jackie? Anything happening?

Shteve

……………….

—–Original Message—–
From: Paul J Stubbings
To: “Green Patrick (CSC)”
Sent: 22 June 2001
Subject: RE: Pond Life

Comrade Paddy,

Nothing wrong with your response. Pepper, as usual, got to the truth first: Pond is a homo. His most recent missive betrays that he has watched Withnail and I (and probably wanked over it) far too often. I see him as some sort of horrendous Monty figure, gloomily eyeing up the young male talent down the gym, wishing he wasn’t so fat and creating a rich inner life for himself.

___________________

[In the middle of which we have a rather irrelevant exchange between Mr Green and his pal Mr Laurence, he of prestigious law firm Herbert Smith. I have included it here mostly because it is amusing to read other people’s private correspondence, but also because it segues rather neatly into the complaint saga.]

___________________

—–Original Message—–
From: Green Patrick (CSC)
To: LAURENCE, DAVID
Sent: Friday, June 22, 2001
Subject: FW:

Hot goose droppings

……………….

—–Original Message—–
From: LAURENCE, DAVID
To: ‘Green Patrick (CSC)’
Sent: 25 June 2001
Subject: RE:

…are your favourite snack and shampoo.

……………….

—–Original Message—–
From: Green Patrick (CSC)
To: LAURENCE, DAVID
Sent: Monday, June 25, 2001
Subject: RE:

Belated happy birthday. Where you beguzzled? I phoned Jenny on Saturday to discuss your problems in depth.

……………….

—–Original Message—–
From: LAURENCE, DAVID
To: ‘Green Patrick (CSC)’
Sent: 25 June 2001
Subject: RE:

I fail to see how discovering the details of a pub in Fulham where my brother’s band will play constitutes a detailed analysis of my alleged problems.

I know what you do. Full details are reported back by more people than you could guess. We all know. We all report to each other.

Never think you will get away with anything McFaberge. Oh no.

We have our eye on you.

……………….

—–Original Message—–
From: LAURENCE, DAVID
To: ‘Green Patrick (CSC)’
Sent: 25 June 2001
Subject: RE:

Who is Pond?

Why did you apologise to him?

……………….

—–Original Message—–
From: Green Patrick (CSC)
To: LAURENCE, DAVID
Sent: Monday, June 25, 2001
Subject: RE:

I have professionals eveywhere who make the NVKD under Stalin seem like Mrs Marples. Have enclosed some light reading. Please read from bottom up.

[Copy of part of correspondence.]

……………….

—–Original Message—–
From: Green Patrick (CSC)
To: LAURENCE, DAVID
Sent: Monday, June 25, 2001
Subject: RE:

David installment one tell me when you are ready for the next installment.

[Copy of original complaint and response #1.]

……………….

—–Original Message—–
From: LAURENCE, DAVID
To: ‘Green Patrick (CSC)’
Sent: 26 June 2001
Subject: RE:

I would refer him to Seneca.

Is he for real or has he been made up?

Send the next installment. This could be serialised and published.

Is that your plan?

……………….

—–Original Message—–
From: Green Patrick (CSC)
To: LAURENCE, DAVID
Sent: Tuesday, June 26, 2001
Subject: RE:

Oh he is real allright. Steven Pepper and Paul Stubbings are already engaged in high level critiques of his work. The computer system here is a bit dodgy I’ll try and send it in a bit.

……………….

—–Original Message—–
From: LAURENCE, DAVID
To: ‘Green Patrick (CSC)’
Sent: 26 June 2001
Subject: RE:

I’ll high level critique your works in a minute

……………….

—–Original Message—–
From: Paul J Stubbings
To: “Green Patrick (CSC)”

Comrade Paddy,

I agree that Pond is a dangerous man, but feel that Pepper is perhaps overstating things. Pond is over-educated and too adpet with abstracts. He proves the following point made by the miserable peasant Josef Vissarionovich:

“Ideas are more dangerous than guns. We would not let people have guns – why should we let them have ideas?”

The great man, has, as usual, stated the truth in his own inimitably pithy manner.

Comrade Paul.

___________________

THE RESPONSE TO THE ERRANT EMAIL

—–Original Message—–
From: Pond. Graham Pond
To: Green
CC: Pepper Stubbings and Laurence
Subject: Pond Life Goes On….
Date: Tuesday 17th July, 2001

Dear Comrades Green, Pepper, Stubbings and Laurence

Electronic mail is one the double-edged swords of twenty-first century experience. Discuss.

Mostly – there are statistics I could invent but the facts speak much more clearly for themselves – people use email to amuse themselves whilst they take much-needed breaks from the drudgery of their quotidian ‘lives’. To take the sting from the toad’s tail, as it were. They use email in the same way schoolchildren used to pass notes back and forth. It’s a way of asserting our identity, is it not, whilst we flounder facelessly, aimlessly, trapped like bugs in the sick sticky palm of some fat-cat couldn’t-care-less cunt who shall always remain nameless.

But sometimes, if we’re careless, notes are intercepted by sir. And if we’re very careless, if we’re perhaps bordering on the thick, emails are sent to the wrong addresses. And when that happens, all hell has a tendency to break loose.

But let’s stay with the email thing for a moment. So. We send our friends little messages, don’t we. We talk about our lives. We talk about our lives, and the lives of others, in order that they may pass a little less tediously. In order that we may function as human beings in the vacuum of pointless employment. We try and amuse ourselves. We have ‘a laugh’.

Nothing wrong with that. Makes the utter shit of our humdrum existence that modicum more bearable. Couldn’t agree more. I’m a human being myself, you know. With a job and stresses all my own, that also need to be alleviated by friends with similar ideas about what’s funny and what’s not.

However, what aggravates me, what really fucks the piss out of me, is when – on the occasions when I would expect to be taken seriously, on the occasions when, in order to have my voice heard, I have to play by society’s tightarse rules, and for example, am forced to waste my life writing complaint letters – what really fucks the piss out of me is when, on those occasions, my grievance is completely ignored.

In a way I’m pleased you’re all having a little giggle at my expense, and tickled pink that there are enough hours in your respective days for this kind of web-foolery, but what really gets on my wick and makes me consider taking this whole thing further is the fact that my original complaint, which I prided myself I had expressed with utmost clarity, has never been addressed, not seriously, not once.

And I stand by it. Every word.

When all is said and done, you seem like a decent bunch of people. Does nothing in my original letter ring true for you? For any of you? Think for a minute. Beyond the superficialities. Forget the references to Archer if they distract you. Forget the coke and the game ‘uns. Do you not care about the cracked and crumbling society that you’re all of you helping to perpetuate?

Perhaps it will be more productive if I address a few of the specific points which were inadvertently raised when Mr Green did whatever he did – cut and pasted a little too rashly perhaps? Or just plain and plum got tangled in his own world wide web of neglect and deceit? And therefore, maybe it’s best I address each of you individually. You first, Paddy.

———————————————

Dear Mr Green

Let’s cut to the quick, shall we? Unless I am mistaken, it is your job, amongst a whole host of other essential duties I am sure, to ‘deal with’ the complaints of the paying customers of London Underground. Would you agree? I don’t think it would be too far-fetched, under the circumstances, to assume that you must receive a lot of complaints. An awful lot of complaints, all pretty much, when it comes down to it, saying exactly the same thing. Saying, ‘I didn’t get what I paid for. And I’m unhappy and angry about it.’ Would you agree?

Above all else, I feel that what disgruntled consumers desire is the knowledge that they are being heard, that their opinions are being respected and that therefore they are not without a voice. Surely then it is your job to extend assurance – as well as, one would hope, your genuine regret that the company to which you are dedicating the greater part of your life is not adequately performing its sole function – assurance that you have understood the dissatisfaction of the consumer and that you are trying hard to put things right. I imagine also that if you cannot offer this assurance genuinely, then it is your job to offer at least a decent facade of assurance.

I imagine that the issues which I raised in my initial correspondence – those at least that related to LU, were problems that are simply too deeply-rooted in the infrastructure of the transport industry – and indeed, I might rather pompously add, of society as a whole – that you were at a loss as to offer even a whisker of assurance that would have stood up to scrutiny, and so you thought, ‘Fuck it’, and opted instead to send a curt gag for a response, with which, if nothing else, you could amuse your little chums.

I’m not particularly opposed to the fact that you piss around all day at work. I’m not even opposed to the information-sharing or ‘high level critiques’. I actually rather like it. I like a laugh, you know.

The only thing in fact, that sticks in my throat about all this is the fact that you never bothered to give me an honest response to my original letter. I still feel distinctly undealt-with.

With that in mind, how about you consider the following proposal?

Answer my letter. Address the points I raised. With sincerity.

If not – and one hates to stoop to the level of threat, but when the bottom of the barrel gives way beneath one’s scrapings to something soft and rank like an errant underbelly, one would be a fool not to poke it with a stick – I might forget myself and misdirect a few emails of my own. Of course that’s not really a threat at all. That’s merely an idle prediction.

So. What you say, McFaberge?

———————————————

Dear Mr Stubbings

I am touched that you consider me ‘a dangerous man’. You are obviously of the opinion that the pen is still mightier than the sword. Your allegiance to the ethics of Stalin however, would suggest that you consider the Molotov cocktail considerably mightier than the pen.

It may interest you to know by the way, as we’re on the subject of the many ‘jokey’ references to certain leftist traditions in your emails, that I am in correspondence with one Mr Livingstone, a one-time leftist himself and surely not unknown to you – actually, if I’m honest, I am in correspondence with his rather curt mouthpiece at the council, but I’m sure it would amuse him nonetheless if he knew how far the reds have their feet under the beds at London Underground!

For your further edification, I have seen the film ‘Withnail & I’ on more than one occasion – I know it well enough, for example, to spot its influence in certain utterances of your little chums: Mr Green’s in-depth problem discussion reference a direct steal; Mr Pepper’s ‘I am destroyed with porther’ bearing all the hallmarks of a decent homage. Arrr, he knows. I have however, never masturbated whilst watching it.

As for my inner life – and I appreciate the ‘rich’ – you are right. I do have one. Thankfully I have an outer life which complements it rather nicely.

As for my ‘gloomily eyeing up the young male talent down the gym’, I don’t. And I am not fat.

Finally, I agree that ideas are potentially more dangerous than guns and am intrigued to know exactly how you would excise them from the minds of the populace. Do tell.

———————————————

Dear Mr Pepper

What do they call you, your friends? Is it Red? Or Chilli? Or do they dispense with all the vegetable-related rubbish and just refer to you as the Doctor? I’m sure there’s lots of ‘Comrade Red Pepper’ banter bandied around though. Am I right? Anyway, it’s not important.

Listen, although my heterosexuality may have at times been called into question, I have never entertained sexual thoughts where children are concerned. At least not freely enough to be suspected on grounds of morality or mental instability. More in the name of intellectual experimentation than cheap, forbidden thrill. It’s a thin line of course, but I assure you, my thought patterns are beyond reproach.

Yours on the other hand. I mean really, your ‘dialogue as validation of child abuse’ theory is beyond the pale. A joke is one thing, but my God man, ‘the anal rape of a small child’? Must we really go there in the name of cheap laughs?

I ask merely for information.

———————————————

Dear Mr Laurence

When I received Mr Green’s inadvertent email, I thought long and hard about what I should do. I decided in the end that what I should do is take legal action, if only to serve as a warning to other public servants to take their jobs seriously, and more importantly, to take the public they serve seriously. I began by thinking Defamation of Character and Criminal Negligence, but then I’m no lawyer, Mr Laurence. So I did a little research. I wonder if you know what kind of reputation Herbert Smith has with other legal firms.

You want to sort that out. Word of mouth can go a long way.

My lawyer meanwhile, is chomping at the bit. Frothing at the ego he is, desperate to have ‘a crack at the big boys’, as he rather endearingly puts it, but then my lawyer is a bit of a Raymond Duck, if you’ll pardon the expression.

So what I have decided to do is make the following proposition: you’re a lawyer – unless of course you’re not. When all is said and done, I suppose you could just be the lowly doorman – but for the moment, let’s assume you have a degree in law and a briefcaseful of experience, and let’s do a plea bargain. I believe that’s what they’re called.

I’ll let you off the hook for all the slanders you, David Laurence, as an employee of Herbert Smith, let fly, and you, acting on my behalf, prosecute Patrick Green of London Underground. What do you say?

Of course when I renege on this and prosecute you, David Laurence of Herbert Smith, I shall call in Mr Duck to do my dirty work. Or I might think what the hell and do it myself.

I’m joking of course.

But that doesn’t mean that I’m not blinded by rage. You’re a lawyer. You do the math. Have I got a case or what? Or should we cut all the bullshit and go to the mat?

Your middle name’s not by any chance Herbert, is it?

Yours as ever

Pond. Graham Pond.

___________________

[Perhaps unsurprisingly, I received no response to this, so a few weeks down the line, I tried again.]

___________________

22nd August, 2001

—–Original Message—–
From: Pond. Graham Pond
To: Green. Patrick Green.
Subject title: tick tock tick tock….

Tick tock tick tock…. Come along then. Cat got your tongue or what? This isn’t just going to go away, you know. Why don’t you respond, if only to tell me to fuck off? I wouldn’t like it, but it’d be better than all this silence. Neither would I do it – fuck off, that is. But at least we’d be talking again, eh? And that’s the important thing – that’s why we’re both here – communication. Let’s do it. Let’s communicate.

Looking forward to hearing from you.

Your friend,

Graham

___________________

[And again.]

___________________

26th September, 2001

—–Original Message—–
From: Pond. Graham Pond
To: Green. Patrick Green.
Subject title: ?

Dear Mr Green

I couldn’t help noticing that you have not responded to my previous two emails. And it has been over a month since the last. I can only assume that you have not had the time. Or that perhaps you didn’t receive them. Or something. But I find it difficult to believe that you couldn’t be bothered.

And I don’t really want to go on about it all again. The fact is I’m not a well man at the moment, which means I’m not working, which means I’m up shit creek with only my bare hands to save me. Which means I’ve other things to think about, like whether I’m actually going to live or not. But still, our relationship is important to me. And the fact that you have failed to give me any feedback on the fact that you and your friends chose to insult me behind my back still rankles somewhat.

Please let me know what the story is here, because I’m running low on what-have-you and really want to put an end to this distinctly unsatisfactory affair. What I seek – as our unfortunate American cousins would have it – is closure.

What say you?

Yours,

Graham Pond

___________________

[And then, just when all hope was disappearing over a distant hilltop, like a fading cloud on a thankless June evening, the countryside idyll motif extended itself further, and 'Mr Summers' sprang forth, like an uneaten gherkin from swiftly-packed picnic blanket.]

___________________

3rd October, 2001

—–Original Message—–
From: Summers
To: Pond.
Subject title: ?/MS/AH

Dear Mr Pond

Thank you for your recent email addressed to Mr Green.

Mr Green has left the Customer Service Centre, but is still employed by London Underground Limited.

If you would like to remind me about the nature of your original correspondence, I would be happy to re-investigate the situation for you.

Yours sincerely

Andrew Summers
Customer Service Centre
London Underground Limited

Your Tube: Publicly Run, Privately Built. See how we will build tomorrows Tube at

http://www.thetube.com/content/unblock

___________________

SUMMERS COUNTER #1

10th October, 2001

Dear Mr Summers

I would indeed be more than happy to remind you of the situation regarding my correspondence with Mr Green. Although I have to say, my gander is well and truly up.

I also have to say, and damn the consequences, I also have to say that I have my suspicions that you, Mr Summers, even exist. I have my suspicions, I say, that you, Mr so-called ‘Summers’, are in fact Mr Green, merely posing as ‘Mr Summers’, in order to weasel out of the moral obligation into which you have so carelessly stumbled.

If this is not the case, then I accept that the above paragraph may appear somewhat foolish, perhaps even a tad paranoid. So be it. Never let it be said that Mr Pond is beyond a little humble pie. Quite the contrary. Feed me the humbling slice of rose-tinted reality over the foetid pat of cynical tart any day of the week.

Accepting however, from here on in, if only for the sake of our collective sanity, that I am being foolish in my scepticism, surely we have to ask ourselves why this is the case. Why on earth would an ordinary London Underground customer be filled with such unsound suspicions? And in answering this question we also fulfil our obligation to remind you, Mr Summers – although how one can be reminded of something of which one has no prior knowledge escapes me – exactly what it is I am so damn flustered about.

It is this:

• On Friday the fourth of May, 2001, I, Graham Pond, sent a letter of complaint to London Underground. In this letter I outlined a number of grievances I had – and, as it happens, still have – with London transport as a whole.

• On Monday the seventh of May I received the following reply from your predecessor, Mr Patrick Green: ‘Thank you for your email. If you are dissatisfied with London Underground’s services I suggest that you avoid using them. Perhaps you may consider also a stress management course.’

• After which, a rather diverting email correspondence ensued, and Mr Green seemed to have succeeded in his plan to extricate himself from a potentially embarrassing situation simply by being an evasive and sycophantic arse. But then, on the twenty-sixth of June, I received an email from Mr Green in which were recorded electronic conversations he had been having about me – a paying customer of London Underground – with some of his city pals, most notably Mr David H Laurence of Herbert Smith.

• Hurt, offended and angry, I wrote a reasoned response.

• Ignored, I wrote another.

• Then another.

And now, Mr Summers, you have taken up the mantle. As I have stated in my correspondence with Mr Green, a copy of which is available on request, I do not want to get anyone into trouble. I merely request, as I believe is my right, a reasonable, and above all an honest, response to my original letter of grievance.

Looking forward to an end to this opprobrious matter,

Yours sincerely,

Graham Pond

___________________

SUMMERS COUNTER #2

23rd November, 2001

—–Original Message—–
From: Summers
To: Pond.
Subject title: ?/MS/AH

Dear Mr Pond

Thank you for your recent email. Please accept my sincere apologies for the delay in replying to you, this is due to the unusually high volume of email enquiries we have received over the past month.

I am very sorry if any previous correspondence from my former colleague Mr Green, who is no longer employed by this department caused you any offence. I can assure you that I am not Mr Green and the last time that I checked, I was definitely Andy Summers.

If you do have any specific problems regarding London Underground services please contact us at the above address.

Yours sincerely

Andrew Summers
Customer Service Centre
London Underground Limited

Your Tube: Publicly Run, Privately Built
See how we will build tomorrows Tube at

http://www.thetube.com/content/unblock

___________________

By which point, I thought, fuck it. They’ve won. They have ground me down. I can not be bothered.

Now here we are, almost ten years on and thankfully, London Underground is brilliant now! Hurray!

Have fun tomorrow.