“No information, updates or apologies have been offered whatsoever.”
He bristled: “You’d need a degree in quantum physics to make up this lost time; Doc Brown couldn’t achieve that if he suddenly turned up in a damn Delorean.”
The journey from London’s Euston had started badly when it became immediately apparent that many cabins had been wrongly booked, bunk beds were not made up and water from an air conditioning unit started leaking in.
But the staff ploughed on cheerfully and on the whole, passengers proved themselves to be robust, determined to make the most of it.
The old trains had featured strip lighting, stained carpets and patterns reminiscent of a Mecca Bingo hall.
There was a general consensus that the sleek new seating carriages were more akin to a Habitat showroom, there was plenty of legroom and even overhead lockers.
And crucially, the one-time bone rattler had been transformed to such comparative luxury that a good night’s sleep was enjoyed by all. Well, most.
A spokesman for the service noted that new auto-coupler technology avoids the need for excessive shunting when the various services split and join in the middle of the night. “They kiss rather than kick,” he said.