One day, the Fat Controller got fed up of passengers' complaints. They were 
always moaning about how late the trains were, or how they were cancelled 
at short notice. After thinking about it for a while, he decided that 
Something Must Be Done.

'I have decided', he told the engines, 'that in future, you will decide 
which trains are to run. I will provide you with the means to run them, but 
you will take all day-to-day decisions.'

Thomas the tank-engine was most dismayed. 'But I don't want to do that,' he 
complained, 'I just like running my branch-line. I like pulling trains, 
it's all I've ever wanted to do. I don't want to Make Decisions.'

'Stuff and nonsense,' huffed Gordon. 'It's quite right and proper that we 
should decide which trains run - after all, we know better than anyone else 
which trains are important.' - by which he meant, of course, his own 
trains.

The sad truth of the matter was that the Fat Controller simply hadn't 
bought enough coal for all the trains to run. It didn't really matter who 
made the decisions, some trains were bound to be cancelled. But this way, 
he was able to report to those who re-appointed him every five years to run 
the railway that he had done his best, and that all the remaining problems 
were due to the endless squabbling of the engines.

So, eventually, when the complaints of the passengers grew too loud, it was 
the engines who suffered. They were forced to do without spare parts and 
new coats of paint, so that every spare penny could be spent on providing 
coal. Even then, trains were still cancelled, but the old days when the 
engines were looked after properly and kept clean and tidy were too long 
ago for anyone to remember them...

Prit.

P S BUTTAR
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