I'm not sure that Michael Portillo and Griff Rhys Jones would agree with these sentiments.

 

Things Seen Less Clearly

 

In this world, at this time,

Young ambitious neophytes

Are condemned as

Mere passengers, trapped

On white-pointed trains

That do not stop.

Carried to oblivion

Without their permission

They study their own

Shadowed, flickering faces

Staring blankly back

From just beyond the glass;

As the future flashes away

Forever

At two hundred miles an hour.

 

Chris Hubbard

Perth 2020