13 reasons why it shouldn’t happen on a coach journey

Instead of the air-conditioned double decker featured on the advert, a licensed 1960’s coach rattles in to the station to pick up three times as many passengers as there are seats.

The last you see of your holdall is when it is thrown by the sweaty driver in a temper to the back of the boot where it will either sit crushed by everyone else’s or alternatively be snatched whilst you are unaware on-board at the next stop.

Queuing is only for the weakest as you have to join a rugby scrum of confusion to get on-board. After the scrum at least ten angry passengers have to get off and have their luggage identified and unloaded. All claim to have no booking whatsoever whilst shouting that they didn’t realise they needed a ticket because no one told them one was required to travel.

The cast of The Jeremy Kyle Show seated in row seven, decide that the driver must stop at McDonalds three minutes into the journey as someone’s Auntie has left their mobile phone at the counter.

You don’t get to read any of your book or listen to your newly loaded music player because the overweight lady next to you spilling out over both armrests tells you all about her angina and clinical depression.

Three female members of a Blackpool Hen party openly drink Special Brew and alight a cigarette oblivious to the rules or driver intervention.

The family on row seven get louder, lairy and bored throwing Monster Munch at passengers they think won’t complain.

There is no risk of getting settled because you learn that you will shortly have to disembark and unload then reload your own luggage at Preston as well as your scheduled connection stop at Birmingham.

Whilst we’re on about ‘that’ connection, there is a very unlikely probability that you will make the optimistic connection slot anyway judging by the gridlock on the M6.

The man in front of you eats smelly chicken tikka submarine rolls noisily whilst the screaming child behind, intentionally kicks the back of your seat for the first hour.

Just when you think you can’t endure any more, a baby starts to cry.

Your legs go dead as you have as much legroom and personal space as Houdini.

You vow never to suffer all this again, yet National Express is so cheap compared to National Rail.