Fleapit revisited:The Titfield Thunderbolt.

Back in the 1990s, the then Prime Minister John Major came over all wistful and nostalgic when he spoke of the country he was in charge of. He yearned, it seemed, for an idyllic past which was never really there. Or, if it was, was only there for some and only in fleeting moments. It was, he said, "a country of long shadows on county cricket grounds, warm beer, green suburbs, dog lovers, and old maids cycling to holy communion through the morning mist".

It could almost be the country of Charles Crichton's Ealing comedy The Titfield Thunderbolt (written by T.E.B. Clarke and recently shown on BBC2 and still, if you're quick, available on the iPlayer). For the fictional Titfield (in real life, Freshford near Bath) and the countryside that surrounds it are incredibly picturesque.

Right from the start of the film we're in a world of verdant green hills and valleys, dry stone walls, gypsy caravans, jumble sales, businessmen with brollies wearing bowler hats and bow ties, and people who say "by heavens" and sing "for he's a jolly good fellow". It's an England of bygone times but it's not, if you look a little closer, quite as perfect as it first appears.

It's 1952 and the residents of Titfield discover that their branch line, which has been forever run at a loss, is to be closed. The local vicar, and avid railway enthusiast, Sam Weech (George Relph) joines forces with the local squire, Gordon Chesterford (John Gregson) and together they decide to take over the running of the line. The trouble is that will cost them money and lots of it. Which they don't have. 

Chesterford owns land but not, it seems, money. Using the promise of an early opening train bar they secure funding from the wealthy, and boozy (the jocular attitude towards chronic alcoholism in this film hasn't aged well) Walter Valentine (Stanley Holloway) and the Ministry of Transport give them a month's trial to prove they can make the railway work.

That's challenge enough but they also have to deal with Coggett (Reginald Beckwith), a union man who's worried any new railway workers they take on will not be paid sufficiently, and an irascible engine driver in the form of Dan Taylor (Hugh Griffith). A man who shoots rabbits on a Sunday (!) and on the squire's land. It really was a different time.

Even bigger problems come from Alec Pearce (Ewan Roberts) and the excellently named Vernon Crump (Jack MacGowran) who have a vested interest in making sure the branch line closes down. They plan to run a bus along the route instead. But how far will they go to stop Weech and Chesterford? And what other plans do they have?

That's it - and that's quite enough. As an Ealing 'comedy' it's not particularly funny. You may snigger at Weech's belief that the men of Canterbury are not of "sufficient faith" but you certainly won't LOL watching The Titfield Thunderbolt. There will be no ROFLs, GLAGs, and PMSLs.

Instead, it's just rather lovely. There's a jaunty score from Georges Auric (a member of Les Six), the film poster was designed by the brilliant Edward Bawden, and there are great performances from Naunton Wayne as town clerk George Blakeworth and Godfrey Tearle as the Bishop of Welchester, an even bigger ecclesiastical train nerd than Weech.

Oh. and there's Sid, or Sidney, James as steam roller driver Harry Hawkins. The England of The Titfield Thunderbolt may, for the most part, have only ever existed in the minds of John Major and the makers of Ealing comedies but it's still a delightful place to visit. I enjoyed watching the film last night but I enjoyed watching it even more with my mum and dad on Xmas Eve in 2013 while nursing a can of real ale (Moorhouse's Black Cat should you be interested). 

Just a decade after The Titfield Thunderbolt, Dr Beeching ("oh Dr Beeching, what have you done?") axed thousands of small railway stations and thousands of miles of railway lines. More recently privatisation of the railways have made them more expensive, less reliable, and far less enjoyable to travel on. That's why we love to see trains like The Titfield Thunderbolt chugging through the countryside puffing out little cotton wool clouds of smoke and that's why we hope, against the odds, the people like Weech and Chesterford win. Choo choo!