An uncomfortable train ride with Wayne and Waynetta Slob!

HERE'S a tricky one - what do you do if you find yourself cramped sardine-like on a train sat next to someone who smells so rank? How do you open the conversation - "Excuse me, when was the last time your body saw a bar of soap?"

On a muggy Sunday afternoon travelling on the train out of Eastbourne with my son Ross, we were confronted with two characters straight out of a Harry Enfield sketch - they were mature versions of Wayne and Waynetta Slob.

Wayne was wearing clothes which were hanging off him, tobacco-stained nails, gnarled and blackened teeth and grey hair straight out of Worzel Gummidge. His skin was tanned, but more out of grime than any sun.

Waynetta was wheelchair bound, weighing in at a double digit dress size, trying to text with one hand while knocking back a two-litre bottle of full fat Coca-Cola and burping through out. "Whoops", she giggled and looked across apologetically at Ross and I with a grizzled, toothy smile which would sink a thousand ships.

What can you say? Nothing! It was grotesque. I'm trying hard to describe the smell and it is difficult. It was  choking and unpleasant, a bit like decaying body flesh (don't ask how I know!), which we endured for a good 45 minutes before a swift change at Haywards Heath.

I had a similar situation a few years ago when we had one guy at work who really did pen and ink. By mid-afternoon, his body odour could be detected half way down the newsroom. All I could do was to have a quiet and diplomatic conversation with him, and he was embarrassed when I raised it.

I've had my fill of trains recently. Yesterday was a nightmare on the railways. Points failure at Hastings, engineering works between Lewes and Brighton, broken down train at Clapham Junction, delayed trains because of driver sickness. A round journey from Eastbourne to Chichester took almost seven hours - I could have flown to New York quicker in that time.

You just despair at the state of the railways. For years I've been treated to pretty good service on First Great Western. The trains are pretty smart, they've got facilities to plug in a laptop and they're quick - although the prices are ludicrous; more than £100 for a return from Swindon to Paddington.

I'm now resigned to Southern Railways which has a shocking timetable and train carriages which are old and shoddy. A £28 rail pass takes the sting out of the fares.

The distance between Eastbourne to Southampton is a mere 85 miles. The train journey, however, takes an excruciating two-and-a-half hours. It doesn't get any quicker by road, by the way. The train trundles along the south coast calling in at every small hamlet through Sussex. There's no non-stop train from Brighton to Portsmouth or Southampton which would make life so much easier.

The other week I travelled to Peterborough from Eastbourne. The first part of the journey on Southern Railways to London Victoria was slow and painstaking -although a little swifter than the coastal route. There are campaigning efforts currently to encourage the train franchise to reduce travel time from East Sussex to the capital to 70 minutes - covering a distance of little more than 65 miles. It should be simple, but it isn't.

For the second part of our journey to the Fens from King's Cross, it took less than 40 minutes to cover 85 miles on the East Coast line. How ridiculous is that? Again, the trains are smart and sleek; compared to Southern Railways which is like riding with the Flintstones.

Rail fares continue to rise and yet are passengers really get a fair deal? Yesterday, I couldn't get a sit with Ross on the outbound train to Chichester. There was no help from rail staff for his wheelchair; I had to get assistance from fellow passengers to get him on and off the train.

It's not as if those who ride the railways are not a vociferous bunch - they certainly are. But, it seems, there is very little appetite for change on behalf of the railway companies who are content to deliver a third class service set against first class fares.