Dear Connex, I am writing to inform you that since receiving your letter six weeks ago, I have not had time to go to the pub . . ." typed friend Graham on his laptop.

"This is largely due to the fact that almost every day, one of my journeys to or from work has been delayed.

"If the journey to work is delayed, then I am forced to remain in the office longer to catch up with work not done at the start of the day, and do not get home in time to go the pub.

"If my journey back from London is delayed, then I also do not get home early enough for a trip to the pub. So, either way, there is no way of getting to the pub."

"Do you not think they'd be more sympathetic if you stressed that the delays were affecting your work rather than your social life?" I asked.

Graham, who is a very conscientious employee of the BBC, is not one for spending night after night in the pub, especially as his wife's about to drop baby number three.

In response to the question, Graham drew out copies of letters from himself to Connex and their replies to him, dating back over a year and concerning delays to numerous journeys. His letter about his inability to get to the pub was in response to a letter from Connex, which went into some detail about the cause of signal failure which had resulted in a train being delayed by more than an hour on a particular date.

To compensate for this unacceptable delay, they had sent Graham vouchers. Not the usual vouchers to be used for further rail travel, but vouchers to be used in an established pub chain which, as he was pointing out, he was unlikely to be able to use.

"What were you doing going to work at three in the afternoon, anyway?" I asked, noting that the train Connex was referring to had left Brighton at 15.08.

"I wasn't," he replied, showing the letter which had elicited this particular response. "I was stuck on a train which caught fire on the way home in the evening."

Graham's letter was two typed pages of A4 and went into details of how the train had stopped in the tunnel, filled with smoke, they'd been given no information and been delayed by about two hours.

Connex's letter was equally long, as if the person responding had addressed every detail. But the explanations bore no relation to the complaint.

"And there's more," said Graham, showing me other letters of the same ilk.

One, for example, complained about having to stand all the way from Brighton, as the train only had three carriages, to which he'd received a reply that the rail company was very sorry for the excessive cold on that particular train, due to the heating system having broken down.

"It's as if they've realised that people aren't happy with a standard, 'Sorry, here's a fiver off your next ticket'," Graham went on. "So they've composed a range of replies to try to make you think that they're dealing with your particular problem."

He returned to his letter. "As my wife is expecting a baby at any moment, even if the unthinkable were to happen and all your trains began running on time, I would still be unlikely to be able to get to the pub in the foreseeable future.

"Perhaps I could suggest that you compensate me instead with a bottle of champagne with which, if I ever get home, I will be able to celebrate the birth of said baby. A magnum of Bollinger should do the job."