Don’t get me wrong: London’s transport system is still one of the best in the world. I’d sooner have a backstreet dentist with jittery hands pry my right molar out with a rusty wrench than wait for a bus in Naples or attempt to understand the New York subway map. But that doesn’t mean Transport for London is without fault. The mere thought of the Central line during rush hour is enough to turn the sanest of commuters into a babbling, dribbling, catatonic mess.
TfL customers are dissatisfied: staff are nowhere to be seen; criminals use the Tube network like a labyrinthian tunnel system, evading prosecution at every turn; and strikes and service disruptions have driven a wedge between commuters and transport workers. But it’s not just the Tube. There were 70,000 bus-related complaints made to TfL in the past year – and with buses zooming around London at an average speed of 9.1mph, I’m not surprised.
The problem is that we know it can be better. For a while, TfL was good. In fact, it was great. Growing up in the capital, I used TfL like an aged Hollywood star uses Ozempic: religiously and with abandon. By the age of 11, I was confident navigating the entirety of the Underground map. (Excluding the District and Circle line; for some reason I would always end up in Richmond regardless of my destination, like the commuter equivalent of Groundhog Day.) My memories of a happier TfL coincide with my memories of a happier London. This was the era of the Olympics, of the Diamond Jubilee, of Boris Johnson being nothing more than a bumbling mayor who gets stuck on zip wires and knocks over Japanese schoolchildren in games of rugby. This was London before Covid, before rampant phone thievery, before the kinds of interest rates and rental prices that make you want to run your head through a phone box window. This is not to say that London was faultless back then, but it felt a lot more optimistic.
Perhaps this is a Panglossian view of London’s past – I’m a sucker for nostalgia – but it’s impossible to deny that London’s reputation has fallen, as has the reputation of its transport system. Don’t believe me? Let me take you through an average journey on the Northern line (which isn’t even the worst line in London).
Your Tube has stopped somewhere between Borough and London Bridge. It’s a gazillion degrees in this carriage. Even your toenails are sweating. A woman is coughing so hard that you think her lung might flop out on to the scum-stained floor at any moment. A man to your left is crooning the words to ‘Don’t Worry, Be Happy’ by Bobby McFerrin. You’d ask him to stop, but he has the sort of vacant stare that only murderers and estate agents possess – and he doesn’t look like he sells houses. An old lady has keeled over on the floor from heat exhaustion while another commuter fans her with a copy of the Big Issue. A random man shouts: ‘Somebody call an ambulance!’ And then a more sensible passenger says: ‘With what phone signal?’
The Tube moves again, and a sliver of breathable air whooshes past your face. A voice from above says something incomprehensible over the Tannoy system: ‘Crshhhh… incident at… crshhhh… all lines running at a reduced… crshhhh… thank you… crshhhh… if you see something suspicious…’
Growing up in the capital, I used TfL like an aged Hollywood star uses Ozempic: religiously and with abandon
The carriage stinks. Someone is eating a tin of herring with their hands. (Eating smelly foods on the Tube should be illegal.) It’s 1 p.m., but the drunks are already out in full force. There are half a dozen people smashed out of their minds on BuzzBallz and other pre-mixed cocktail cans. They’re all wearing cowboy hats, and one of them, their inebriated leader, announces to the carriage: ‘We’re going to a concert! Who wants to shag me?’ This is followed by a depressing silence.
You get off at Angel. The escalator is broken, so you risk an asthma attack and climb the stairs. Years from now, there will be a three-part Netflix documentary series about the first man to summit every Tube station staircase in one day without the aid of supplementary oxygen. He will receive an OBE.
At the barriers, you tap your card to exit. To your right, eight young men smash through the gates without paying for their fares. A man in his sixties tries to stop them, but he’s swiftly kicked over and called a ‘coffin dodger’ by the fare evaders. The TfL staff look at the scene with gormless expressions before going back to their phones. You think about chasing the young men down, but like everyone else, you’re too scared.
I could carry on, but I won’t. You get the point: TfL is a mess. And it’s getting worse.
If you’re still unconvinced, then here are a few statistics to persuade you. Let’s look at violence first: in the year to 31 October 2023, British Transport Police recorded 3,542 violent offences on the Underground – that’s a 75 per cent increase from 2020. BTP also recorded 909 sexual offences, excluding rape, in that same period. This was also an increase from previous years. City Hall has claimed that safety on public transport is a concern and a priority for Sir Sadiq Khan, the mayor of London. While I’m sure that’s true (sarcasm heavily implied), I think he and the rest of his team ought to be doing more than putting up a few flimsy posters about violence and sexual harassment.
TfL also claims that bus travel is the safest form of transport in London. But notice the wording here: ‘Safest.’ No one is saying that bus travel is safe. In the year ending March 2024, there were 18,770 bus-related crimes reported in the capital. It might be better than the Tube, but it’s hardly a reassuring figure.
And there’s more. Almost one in 20 people fare-dodge on the Underground. This costs TfL – and the taxpayer – £190 million a year. That financial burden is nearly a 50 per cent increase from two years ago. Combine all of this with strikes, delays, a lack of air conditioning on some of the hottest lines, staff ineptitude and increasingly dirty conditions, and you’ve got a TfL that’s on its knees.
Again, I want to stress that London’s transport system is a far cry from being ‘one of the worst’ in the world. But it is the most expensive in the world. And it’s not as good as it used to be – no PR campaign can change that fact. There’s so much to complain about in London right now. Slamming London is all the craze on social media: ‘London has fallen.’ ‘London is doomed.’ ‘RIP London.’ But the transport system is still surprisingly one of the capital’s greatest attributes. The question is: how long will it stay that way?
If the mayor and the rest of his team don’t pull their fingers out soon, we can wave goodbye to that world-famous bar and circle and all that it has come to represent. I don’t want to slate TfL for the sake of it. I do think our transport system can get better. But it won’t happen without those in power doing something about it. And they better do it soon; I’m getting tired of forking out money that I don’t have on Ubers that I don’t want just because a bunch of spotty teenagers are mugging the entirety of the Northern line for a bit of Friday fun.
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