London underground

The NHS and politicians Sir: The NHS is indeed in need of fundamental reform, but Max Pemberton’s excellent article (‘The wrong cuts’, 14 November) exemplifies why politicians are least well qualified to conduct it. The public loves the NHS and has every reason to distrust political meddling. NHS England should become a public corporation with a five-year charter similar to that applying to the BBC. Of course politicians must decide the total budget and agree the strategic goals, but that is a far cry from deciding the pay and hours of every category of staff. Politicians have no managerial skills and should leave that to the professionals.

Afamily member is thinking of moving and asked for commuting advice. Well, first add 25 per cent to any journey time estimate containing the phrase ‘door to door’. When commuters cite journey time to work, the journey they have in mind is one which happens with the frequency of a solar eclipse: when every traffic light is miraculously green and the train draws in just as you reach the platform. Generally the words ‘door to door’ can be replaced by ‘in a parallel universe’ without altering the meaning of the surrounding sentence. I also advised asking the estate agent what is the second-best way to get to work. No one ever thinks of asking this, but it is vital.

Home Tom Hayes, aged 35, a former City trader who rigged the Libor rates daily for nearly four years while working in Tokyo for UBS, then Citigroup, from 2006 until 2010, was jailed by Southwark Crown Court for 14 years for conspiracy to defraud. The government sold a 5.4 per cent stake in Royal Bank of Scotland, for 330p a share, against the 500p or so that it paid six or seven years ago to save the banking group; the government now owns 73 per cent of RBS. Monitor, the regulator for health services in England, sent out letters ‘challenging the plans of the 46 foundation trusts with the biggest deficits’. Kids Company, the charity founded by Camila Batmanghelidjh, appeared likely to close.

Today, London feels on edge. For the second month in a row, militant transport unions will shut down the Underground system at 6:30pm, leaving Londoners to face seemingly endless queues for buses, inflated Uber prices and an army of occasional cyclists bearing down on them. The estimated cost of a 24-hour strike (this time, over the plans for a 24-hour Tube service) is some £50 million. It’s time for the government to step in. Currently, the fire service, among others, is regarded as an 'essential service', which means a minimum service has to be provided during periods of industrial action while full-scale walkouts are illegal. It is time for the Tube – and potentially the railway network as a whole – to receive the same designation.

The Tube isn't an obvious political arena, but recently, it has become the backdrop for a number of flashy feminist statements. Last year, a blog which pictured women eating on the Tube provoked outrage among female activists, who held a picnic on the Circle line in protest. More recently, the infamous Protein World adverts, which supposedly encouraged body-shaming, were defaced before they were eventually banned. Yesterday, TFL announced that more than 100 police officers will be on patrol once London Underground's 24-hour service begins. Her Majesty's finest will be accompanied by extra Community Support Officers and the installation of a further 13,000 CCTV cameras. What call is there for such precautionary measures?

I remember the first time that someone stood up and offered me a seat on the London Underground. It was in 2002, when I was 62 years old, and rather a pretty girl whom I had been quietly admiring through the crush on the Piccadilly Line suddenly rose to her feet and beckoned me to take her place. I was so shocked that I responded most ungraciously. I just shook my head in irritation and signalled to her to sit down again. For, notwithstanding the fact that my hair had long ago turned white, it was the first time I had realised that I actually looked old. From then on, offers of seats on crowded Tube trains started to come my way occasionally, and they came with gradually increasing frequency, until now, 13 years later, I have almost come to expect them.

The Mayor of Tower Hamlets has been kicked out of office. Lutfur Rahman was found guilty at a High Court hearing this morning of ‘corrupt and illegal practices’ and the result of the 2014 mayoral election has been voided. Rahman has to pay costs of £250,000 and has been barred from standing in the next election after Judge Richard Mawrey said he'd ‘driven a coach and horses through election law and didn't care’. The list of offences is long. Rahman has been found guilty of allocating grants to buy votes; his supporters were found to have been involved in the rigging of votes; he wrongly branded his Labour rival John Biggs a racist; his supporters attempted to seek a spiritual influence through local imams.

This week I would like you to share the deep pain of a liberal who has been called ‘right-wing’. This is a terrible thing to happen. It is hard to think of anything worse. There you are, being dutifully liberal all over the place and suddenly, perhaps inadvertently, you divest yourself of the opinion that — for example — Islam may, in some way, have some sort of weird, unfathomable connection to the jihadists of the Islamic State and kaboom, your credibility is blown to shreds. All of a sudden people are calling you horrible names online, like ‘right wing’. People who are quite like you calling you this. Nice, bien-pensant people with adorable views. This has happened to a chap called Tim Lott, a journalist for one of our regional newspapers.

In my Yorkshire town of Helmsley the NatWest branch, originally an outpost of Beckett & Co of Leeds, has closed down — collateral damage of its crippled parent RBS’s continuing struggle for viability. Our branch of the Australian-owned Yorkshire Bank, descendant of the West Riding Penny Savings institution, became an antique shop some time ago. HSBC, formerly Midland, is now a hairdressing salon. When they arrived a century ago, all three were ‘challenger banks’ of their day. But now they have gone, no challengers have ridden in to replace them — unless we count Handelsbanken, the progressively old-fashioned Swedish retail bank that has a thriving franchise down the road at Scarborough.

Last weekend I used the Northern Line at Tottenham Court Road station for the first time since it reopened. Oxford Street is not my favourite place in London but perversely for a tube station that was cramped, overcrowded and cavernously deep, Tottenham Court Road used to lift my spirits. That was wholly due to the wonderful effects of its Paolozzi mosaics; grubby and glittering schematic designs that plastered the walls and ceilings of the entrance hall and platforms. They were probably the only piece of art on the Tube that I have ever thought worked well.