Investors In Shite

When was the last time you heard the word Translink not preceded by the word “fucking”?  That’s right, it doesn’t happen often.  Translink are a shining local beacon of exactly what it means to be an Investor in Shite.

Translink is of course the operator of a troika of toss that consists of Ulsterbus, Metro and NI Railways.  Remember St. Patrick with his shamrock and three dudes in one God?  Well think along the lines of pissing while vomiting, during a bout of chronic diarrhoea and now you have the idea.

Translink as we all know is a combination of the words transport, slow and pink.  Which brings us on to Citybus, sorry, Windscale, sorry we mean Metro.  What Metro means we’re not quite sure, but it definitely isn’t metronome because that would suggest some kind of dependable regularity.  Also you can use a metronome at night, unlike the Metro which if you’re even considering using at night we suggest you don’t bother.  Sit at home and pull your front teeth out of your jaw with a wrench and save yourself £1.30.

Don’t try to go anywhere that isn’t on their dirty dozen list of chosen routes either.  Don’t ask why – just don’t bother, in fact, get that wrench ready again and have a go removing your toes.  And finally, don’t even dream of wanting to board one of those pink Satan wagons once the driver has decided to close the door.  Even if he hasn’t moved, can’t move because of traffic and he is staring you right in the face – that cunt ain’t letting you on.

Now on to Ulsterbus (a clever combination of the words Ulster and bus) who, for those of you who have never had the wallet emptying displeasure, are the nutty-browns who run the Goldliner “service”.  So called because it serves to line Translink’s filthy bastard pockets with gold.  They do offer cheap return tickets on many routes to be fair, but obviously only during hours of no fucking use to anyone who has stupidly burdened themselves with a job that involves working job hours.

Ulsterbus also offer tours under the clever title of Ulsterbus Tours.  Here they take you far away from the comfort of your own home to provide you with a piss poor service.  This includes, but is not limited to, fucking up any special requirements you may have vis-à-vis a hotel room and being rude and incompetent vis-à-vis the fact that you have the cheek to complain to the ham-fisted shysters.

If there’s even the slightest twinkling of an idea in your brain about ever going on an Ulsterbus tour, think instead of inventing a time machine, converting to Judaism and taking a tour of Germany circa 1940.

The unbounded incompetence of NI Railways is the jewel in Translink’s crown of thorns.  If it’s late, over budget and doesn’t work, then it’s NIR.  From it’s non-central Central Station in Belfast it goes to a myriad of exciting places such as Bangor, Lisburn, Bangor, Portadown and Bangor.  It is also rumoured to go to Derry, but you’ll probably derail and you would be faster walking or swimming anyway.  There is also the Enterprise train to Dublin, which is best enjoyed when there’s a bomb on the track and it doesn’t run.

A particularly special feature which physicists have yet to explain is how NIR actually manage to bend time so that none of its arrivals or departures actually happen as predicted by the mystic parchments known as timetables, which soothsayers of old claimed one day would come to predict the future.

If you really need to use NIR, the best thing to do is get your trusty wrench out again and bash your brains until you’ve bludgeoned yourself free of their incompetence.  A nice warm hospital ward and a straw with soup at the end of it awaits.