Now look, alright we had a bit of a problem with the weather, in that too much of the white stuff dropped us, as it were, very much in the brown stuff. But, just because Boris City (or London, as some luddites insist on calling it) ground to a halt leaving thousands unable to get to work, or home, or in fact anywhere, certain gutter press journos have taken it upon themselves to have a go.
Let's take the busses. Alright, you couldn't, because they weren't running. There was a perfectly good reason for that, which escapes me for the moment, but it had something to do with artichokes. I definitely remember artichokes being involved in the decision making process which led to the cancellation of all the bus routes. Or perhaps it was a radish. Either way, the non-appearance of your bus, as you waited at your bus stop, was no bloody fault of mine. If you really do feel the need to whine like a child over it, get yourself down to your greengrocer and take it out on his vegetables.
This brings me to the trains, which were not running because of the cold, which caused their fires to go out. As you know, Henry, James, and even Gordon, all rely on a roaring fire in their tummy to make the magic smoke which turns their wheels. Even Thomas, the little scamp, needs a hearty breakfast of coal before he can puff off, up his branch line. Clearly, on Monday, the supplies of magical coal were completely covered in snow, making it impossible for the engines to get up steam. Again, don't blame me, blame the weather, and probably vegetables, for this tiresome inconvenience.
Well, I hope this clears up any remaining suspicions you may have had that perhaps the problems were all caused by rank incompetence. This is not the case, and I can produce the vegetables and magic coal to prove it. For now though, best keep this anonymous before the scumbag journos get wind of it. That's if they managed to turn up for work, eh? Hoho!
