HAVE you been following the Great Western Railway publicity campaign with the Famous Five?

The most recent outing for the beloved characters seems to be a radio spot for the January sale held by the train company formerly known as First Great Western.

An earlier instalment was a lovely animated film showing the merry chums travelling in fine style across beautiful Devon.

One of the great things about campaigns like this is that they bring beloved old characters from classic fiction back into the public eye for new generations to appreciate.

Take that Marks & Spencer Christmas ad with Paddington Bear, for example. What an eye-moistening joy it was to see good old Paddington mistake a festive burglar for Father Christmas, have him put his loot back in people’s houses and inadvertently make the criminal see the error of his ways and become a better, kinder person.

Having said that, in the real world the burglar would simply have battered Paddington half to death, chucked him off the roof, nicked his marmalade sandwiches, gone on his merry way and at worst ended up with a community order, but let’s not be picky.

Returning to the Famous Five, I think we should all show our appreciation for the joys of rail travel by thinking up our own adventures for the intrepid friends and sending them in.

Who knows, they might be picked up by the company and used in a future ad.

My idea involves brother and sister Dick and Anne, younger siblings of Julian and cousins of tomboy George...

“I say, Anne,” said Dick. “We were supposed to meet Julian, George and Timmy the Dog here at the station simply ages ago. I can’t wait to go on our next adventure, so where are they all?”

Anne shrugged her shoulders sadly.

“Oh Dick,” she said, nearly crying, “it’s been beastly, absolutely beastly.

“George is at home in her bedroom and won’t come out. She’s so upset. Her Mummy and Daddy had to get rid of Timmy the Dog. They couldn’t afford to feed him any more because the price of George’s Daddy’s season ticket has gone up again.”

“What bad luck,” said Dick. “So where is Timmy now?”

“They’ve sent him to live with George’s uncle and auntie.”

“Is that the auntie who runs the fur coat shop in the High Street?”

“That’s the one,” said Anne. “Next door to her uncle’s burger bar.”

“Oh well,” said Dick, “at least we still have Julian. Where is he, Anne?”

“Somewhere at the other end of the line,” said Anne. “He was supposed to be here about nine hours ago but he missed his connection.”

“What a bad show!” said Dick. “Why was his train late?”

“It wasn’t late,” said Anne. “We’re not allowed to say ‘late’ even though it wasn’t on time. A man at the station told him that trains don’t count as late even if they’re late. It’s the Official Rules.”

“That seems very rum, if you ask me,” said Dick. “Anyway, it’s getting near tea time now, so I suppose we’d better be going home. Now we won’t be able to go on a train again until Mummy and Daddy take us for our hols.”

“Oh no,” said Anne. “Mummy and Daddy have decided to take us in the car instead.”

“But cars are wrong,” said Dick. “Trains are better for the environment.”

“Yes,” said Anne, “but when Daddy realised taking us by train would cost us nine times as much as going in the car, and there was no guarantee of our getting there at all, he said some very nasty words and shouted at Mummy to fetch the road atlas...”

Does the law even realise victims are people?

AS I’ve noted before, people sometimes ask me things about current events.

Recently they’ve been asking me why it is that some of our most vile criminals - such as rapist John Worboys - are regularly let out of prison after serving nothing like a period commensurate with the human misery they’ve inflicted.

The answer - again as I’ve noted before - is that the establishment at the heart of such decisions is infested with folk who don’t regard you or me as fully human.

The infestation is not total, of course, and nor is it as severe as it once was, but it is still severe enough to re-devastate the lives of countless victims. When much of the establishment is presented with some horrific offence - or series of them - perpetrated by a foul predator, their attitude is roughly akin to that of ordinary people watching a nature documentary about, say, lions savaging wildebeest or birds of prey raiding other birds’ nests.

They might feel vaguely sorry for the victim, but they simply have no conception that those who suffer are real human beings undergoing real human traumas.

By the same token, they have no conception that perpetrators are real human beings who made real decisions to commit unspeakable acts and deserve severe punishment.

They believe that ordinary people, as lesser beings, are no more capable of self-awareness or self control than, for example, an alligator or a bluebottle.

Until that attitude is utterly eradicated, no amount of inquiries, reviews and examinations will make a blind bit of difference.