There’s a town in the US that owes its continuing prosperity to railways.  It isn’t a significant junction of major routes; it never built trains as we have Crewe or Swindon; and it has no history like Stockton or Darlington.

What it does have are themed hotels and restaurants, souvenir and bookshops – a whole industry ensnaring millions of dollars.

It owes its prosperity to the power of three rather infantile, alliterative words immediately suggested by the question, “Pardon me sir, is that the…..”

The story is absolutely true; or…

…if it isn’t…

…it ought to be.