Driver: There has been a signal failure at Kettering, but we should be on the move again shortly.
Ro: Thank goodness for that, it's 10pm already and there's still at least an hour and a half of travelling to go before we hit London.
Driver: Unfortunately, we won't be going far, since we're in a queue. With five other trains. All moving very slowly. We will be handing out torches, lifejackets and whatever we can spare of the snake venom antitode at the front of the train to passengers wishing to attempt to walk to Kettering station alone. Customers who are unable to swim are Strongly Advised not to attempt this. Good luck, and Godspeed.
Small child: Mummy, what's Kettering?
Mother: The mouth of Hell, my child. The mouth of Hell.
The atmosphere was slightly strange. People began to bond over the crisis. [...]
Driver: To anyone who will need a taxi home from the station due to the delay, we ask that you write your names down on the pieces of paper being passed around. These will be arranged for you.
Ro: I notice that he didn't say we wouldn't have to pay for the taxis ourselves.
Man with a Russian Accent: I say we rebel. They can't keep us all here. I saw the tracks ahead when I walked past the driver's door, they're all clear. They want to keep us here forever and use our labour to feed their expensive lifestyles!
Lady with Blonde Hair: And this tea isn't even that good.
Whimsical teenager: Perhaps we're in a new reality TV show. Maybe my mum's watching!
Ro: But, why would the driver lie to - why would you even think -
Driver: To the dodgy looking group in carriage B, I see you, and must warn that dissent will not be tolerated.
Whimsical Teenager: *quietly waving to the newly spotted cctv-type camera* Hi Mum.
Context is also on the blacklist of the Home Office's Press Office...