-
Far, far to the west of everywhere is the village of Lower Trainswitch. All the baby locomotives go there to learn to be big locomotives. The young locomotives steam up and down the tracks, trying to call out the long, sad ToooOooot of the big locomotives. But the best they can do is a gay little Tootle
Tootle disobeys the greatest of all rules—Stay on the Rails No Matter What
No Matter What because he wants to play in the meadow, and there he prances about with the horses and butterflies and why couldn’t they leave him there—he was obviously having so much fun.
“Train...”
“Is that what it is, a train, hey?”
“Traain...”
“Yeah, right kid. A train, no worries.”
“Let me see.”
“Traaain...”
“He reckons it’s a train.”
“Horrie, it’s just a great squiggle.”
“But he reckons its a train.”
“Traaaain...”
“I can’t see any train in this. Bubba, mumma can’t see the choo‑choo...”
“Jesus, Ella. Tell him its a train or he’ll scream.”
“You show mummy the choo‑choo...”
“Traaaaain...”
“For God’s sake, Ella. Call it a bloody train...”
“Mumma can’t see no choo‑choo.”
“Traaaaaain...”
“You naughty boy, stop yelling. Horrie, it isn’t good to lie to the child. There’s no train.”
"Traaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnn!!!!!!!!!!....”
“That’s it, I’m off to the pub.”
