Euston, you have a problem
I was there on Saturday. It was hot, sweaty, cramped and crowded. And my train was delayed, indefinitely. I wasn’t livid, but it was the next station stop.
Thankfully they were sorry for any inconvenience. So that helped.
While I seethed, I thought to myself, who could've created such an awful, awful place?
I tried to find out the answer (as I mentioned, I had time) but came across a fitting critique instead. It’s by Richard Morrison, a critic at The Times, who describes it as:
“having been scribbled on the back of a soiled paper bag by a thuggish android with a grudge against humanity and a vampiric loathing of sunlight".
That's how to get off the fence.
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