Railway Cutting; or, Legless in Folkestone

Our great nation's control of its own borders is set to attain new heights of Britishness with the amputation of the London to Folkestone leg of the Orient Express. Since independence from the beastly Euro-wogs, the company that runs the route has found that the border checks between the Strasbrussels empire and the mainland are becoming nearly as convenient as various other aspects of life on the sunlit uplands; while the process of treating those who can afford a £3500-minimum train ticket as though they were merely immigrants does agonising violence to any number of moral imperatives. In this case, of course, the purely practical benefits of closure are accompanied by cultural ones: the Orient Express is notoriously the inspiration for a treasonous work of popular fiction in which a native of the Nazi-Soviet bloc's toxic epicentre enables the murderers of an American entrepreneur to escape hanging, in defiance of British justice, economic prudence and the Special Relationship.