Zombie apocalypse narrowly avoided en route to London town - Susan Morrison

There was a young American couple across from me in the First Class carriage across from me. He looked like a quarterback and she a cheerleader.

Thankfully a zombie apocalypse was avoided on the LNER route to London (Photo: Martin Bernetti / AFP Getty Images)

He was under the weather and making unwell man noises. This involves excessive huffing, snorfling and heavy sighs. She remained chipper in the face of his discomfort.

Well, I thought, we've all been there.He grew steadily noiser. It was, apparently, something he had eaten.

As the train passed Alnwick, he made the inevitable dash for the loo. He was still in there when we pulled into Newcastle, changed the train crew and continued on our way to London.

The first class customer services lady became alarmed. As she said to the train manager, people were queuing. First class passengers don't expect to do that.

The tiny wife was consulted. Turned out she'd been texting him in the loo, but she'd lost contact. This was a tad alarming. Further personnel were summoned and the talk was of overriding the lock mechanism, until his wife managed to restore communications. He was coming out, she said.

It's not that I was unsympa-thetic to his plight, but it dawned on me that this how every zombie film I've ever seen starts. Well, I've only seen one, but it was on a train and the first zombie was a big bloke who went to the loo, looking all grey and sweaty and making man-sick noises, then burst out and did unspeakable things to the passengers. They were in first class, too.

As I understand it, the best way to disable a zombie is to whack it about with a baseball bat, which I had unaccountably failed to pack that day. The coffee cup didn’t look suitable for a zombie-walloping.

I needn’t have worried. The train crew were on it. They approached warily, armed with a spray can of something. Zombie repellent? No, air freshener.

Our poor young man came out. He didn’t look much better, but at least he wasn’t undead.

They got off at York. We carried onto London, reeking of Home Fresh Lemon Scent.