The old slam door trains had separate first class carriages with doors that closed and smart white antimacassars on the seats. The ticket collector would hover apologetically in the doorway and stamp tickets with great respect. First class travellers thought their journey worth the expense of a comfortable, secluded carriage. If they found themselves sharing, they would not be exposed to bad language or farting, because it would be wtih genteel individuals with expensive smells who read or snoozed quietly.

The new trains have first class areas too; but because of Equal Opportunities (I assume) are barely different from the rest of the train. Plenty of standard class travellers sit unwittingly in first class and even the ticket collector does not notice the difference without checking the signs on the windows first.

“Madam you are sitting in an area reserved for first class travellers. Kindly move over there (to other end of same carriage) or pay an extra four pounds fifty for your journey.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry I didn’t notice…um…over there looks exactly the same as it is here. What does the extra charge pay for?
“Well madam um, we have these white things called antimacassars on the seats so that you don’t get the dirt from other travellers on your head,”
“Oh.”
A pause.
“Is that it?”
“Oh no, Madam. As you can see you are separate from the second class area.”
“How? There is no door. Oh you mean that little gap in the middle of the carriage? On that basis second class areas are also separate from each other,”
Desperately; “Well…It’s smaller, cosier.”
“Or just has less room. In fact there is not one inch of extra foot room, there are exactly the same uncomfortable chairs, and not even a door to close for some privacy, peace and quiet!. In fact no difference at all!”
“Apart from the antimaca…”
“…Yes apart from those. So is there any purpose in moving or any value in paying an extra four pounds and fifty pence? “
“Um…enjoy your trip Madam.”
“I rest my case.”

The only real advantage to first class is that you won’t inadvertently find yourself in bottom class; reading quietly one minute and stuck in the middle of a toilet the next. If anyone wants to use it they press a button which slides the door panel back to reveal the person inside. The fortunate ones are caught washing their hands.

To destroy the myth that the British can’t cook. Yorkshire pudding exports will ensure Britain is renowned for fine traditional cuisine. French restaurants will introduce Snail in the Pail, (Yorkshire pud.) In Sweden, Smorgasboards will serve Yorkshire Puds with various fillings while Germans will enjoy Kröte-in der-Höhle with Bratwurst.

To ensure Equal Opportunities.
Exporting them to France will ensure French women get curves and suffer ‘fat days’ like the rest of us.

For Multiple Uses across Mainland Europe.
In Switzerland giant Yorkshires become sledges. The Mafia will use them as gun silencers. Spanish will combine lunch and siesta by using them as pillows.
Supplies of the mixture would be on standby to bake into boats during floods, and as snack housing for refugees and asylum seekers.

To Introduce Edible fashion.
French and Italian designers, inspired by the texture and pliability of Yorkshire Pudding will create edible hats, shoes and handbags. ‘Yorkshire pudding Bras’ will become the biggest fashion item since the polka dot bikini.

To Conform to EU Regulations on Size and Shape.
Yorkshire puddings made in muffin tins, would easily conform, but rogue puddings could be used as safe play surfaces for children’s playgrounds.

To Give Them all a Mouthful.
‘Yarksha Poooodun’, ‘Yaksva Putin,’ ‘Yorksimmisso Puddingella’, ‘Yookshear Pooden’. ‘Yolkshare Pardon?’

To Foster Good Relations between Britain and Europe.
Images of a French man in a beret on a bicycle, with bunches of Yorkshire puddings replacing onions will delight Britain and create harmonious British/French relations. An Ambassador of puddings will lead the EU and leaders will discuss European affairs around the ‘Peace Pudding.’

To Replace the Eurovision Song Contest with a Eurovision Pudding Contest. Of course Britain’s entry will always be voted the winner!

Commonly used and most representative colours of the British.

Red. Post boxes. Old telephone boxes. Chairs and tables in fast food cafes.

White. Faces, bodies, socks and sheep.

Blue. Skin in winter. Moods in winter. Navy anoraks.

Grey. Skies. Ageing white underwear. Pensioners hair. New telephone boxes. New trains.

Brown. Briefcases. Lace up shoes. Dog poo.

Magnolia. Indoor walls in offices, public buildings and new homes.

Dark green. Upper crust Wellingtons. Old trains.

Beige. Most cardigans. Small talk.

Cream. Woolly hats and scarves on teenage girls and elderly women.

Pastels. (Unable to commit to true colour but daring enough to try.) Baby clothes, women’s nightdresses, office walls of organisations who wish to appear dynamic or original by not choosing magnolia.

This weekend’s apple festivals are giving us loads of reasons appreciate apples.

Unlike supermarket apples, those from festivals farmer’s markets have not been tested by the roundness inspector and cloned so they all look identical.

Children who say ‘I don’t like apples.’ Can be answered with, ‘No dear you just don’t like Cox’s Orange Pippin, try a Braeburn this time….’ There are so many varieties this can continue until they are adults.

Traditionally ‘an apple a day keeps the doctor away’ because they are healthy and fat free, provided you don’t put them in pies or make them into cakes, puddings, cider or wine.

Student’s like to give one to their teacher as a present, although this may be a subconscious wish to poison their them, (remember the wicked queen in Snow White.)

Apple foods make good comfort foods. Apple pie, apple strudel, apple sauce, apple dumplings. They put everyone in mind of a rosy faced granny… the original Granny Smith.

Adults fondly remember scrumping apples from orchards. It seemed a shame not to help yourself to free food hanging on branches. Nowadays it would have to be alcopops or i-pods to get kids interested.