Jim Armitage: Let foreign taxpayers take the strain of rail franchises

Shares in all Britain’s public transport companies fell this morning except National Express. That tells you all you need to know about bidding for British rail franchises.

Why? Because National Express is the only one that hasn’t bothered to bid.

National Express, once our biggest train operator, decided running UK rail franchises is so risky that it simply wasn’t worth the candle. If others want to, then bully for them.

You can see its point. Rail franchises have always had more moving parts than the Flying Scotsman. Train operators have to guess the demand from passengers up to a decade in advance. Impossible.

But Brexit makes today more uncertain than ever. Nobody knows what impact leaving the EU is going to have on the population’s movements.

How much will it slow the economic growth of the South-East? How much will it speed the manufacturing exporters in the North? How skint and resistant to fare rises will passengers be?

We don’t yet have the lengths of today’s franchises — we’ll learn that in November — but you can expect them to run for seven to 10 years. That means bidders on today’s franchises guessing these macro trends potentially up to 2029.

For good measure, today’s West Coast franchise has the added excitement of including the first years of HS2.

The Government limited the risks of bungles there by insisting consortiums have run high-speed rail elsewhere — hence the dominance of foreign state-owned operators on the roster.

But again, how does Hong Kong’s MTR, or Italy’s Trenitalia, know how many Brits will use HS2? Answer: they don’t.

Shareholders in Go Ahead, Stagecoach and First Group can be forgiven for secretly wishing Jeremy Corbyn might get in and nationalise these franchises altogether.

Either that, or pray that the foreign state-owned bidders win. Let taxpayers in Hong Kong and Italy take the risk.

Kelvin’s dead right

In an era in which bosses are buffed and polished to perfection by the best corporate advisers, all hail the few remaining characters prepared to speak their minds.

Shortly after reading one of them, Sir Martin Sorrell, complain the Cannes Lions advertising jamboree this week was “too bold and brash”, my mobile pinged.

Up came a text from Kelvin MacKenzie, the Sun editor-turned media entrepreneur, referring to his failed bid to oust Sir Robin Miller, the chairman of media group Brave Bison. “If Miller were the chairman of Dignity, people would stop dying,” he wrote.

Someone give that man a newspaper column.