Random Thoughts on Everything

See it, Say it, Sorted

Sitting on a tube train as it rattles along the Northern line, filth and earsplitting noise pouring in through the open window vents, I imagine the meeting that came up with our current safety slogan for British Transport Police. ‘See it, Say it, Sorted.’

The slogan has been around for a while, its tone banal, and yet strangely effective. I imagine the creative team leaping from their chairs, punching the air and screaming ‘YEEESSSS!’ in smug delight. They were probably sat about a table strewn with empty oat milk cappuccinos from the local take out, and I’ll bet someone there expressed feeling just a tiny bit environmentally guilty about all those plastic lids coated in dry froth and chocolate powder.

The posters prompt me to speculate over that meeting. In my version it starts with a discussion about the alphabet. Which letters carry the most weight, which make the strongest impact. Which, of them would best communicate a message on safety awareness, and how might that particular letter look in print, on a public poster. For sure, everyone in that meeting had their own favourite. Those liking words beginning in G might have been in a tussle with others who preferred the stronger sound of an F. I feel sure that sub teams eagerly composed lists of appropriate words. The G team had give, get, go, grow, and grapple. Team F, very pleased with themselves, went with fight, flight, fiddle, fetch and fidget. The word fry was suggested, but it seemed just a little too much for a security campaign in close proximity to live rails. The S team, were put out at merely being a foil between the favoured G and the challenging F. Being a competitive group they went all out with shout, speak, stride, scream, share, stare, save, scold, seek, sense, scatter, and backing up the rear because it was late and they needed a giggle; splatter.

No one was prepared to give way. Looking at their watches and sighing, they moved on to form mock examples. Get it, Grasp it, Go, seemed to encourage risky SAS behaviour. Find it, Fiddle with it, Flee, best described a sex pest. Seek, Speak, Save came close, but was still not quite right.

Needing something punchier, something more memorably Beanz Meanz Heinz-ish, they scratched their heads. What was wrong with good old ‘Mind the gap?’ Too robotic, too cosy, not scary enough? We all know that life has changed. In the 21st century, almost anything from bad to horrendous could be stuffed into that tube train gap. Dead rats carrying new diseases, a discarded polonium syringe, a vial of chemical warfare knotted inside a black and white keffiyeh … or maybe a child’s pink, unicorn patterned rucksack, filled with nails and explosives, primed to blow during rush hour.

Team S, having eventually persuaded the others to get behind them, must have smirked over the win. For many, many hours, working way into the wee small hours of the night, they tried every S variation imaginable, until … bingo! The grammar was twisted into a bouncing tagline with a London twang, See it, Say it, Sorted … was finally born; suggestive of danger, suitably demanding and yet vacuous. Hissingly perfect.

On occasion, I’ve noticed members of the Transport Police hang about in tube stations, usually close to the ticket machines. In twos and threes they laugh and chat together. Useful sometimes for directions, and I’m sure their chummy presence does much to deter criminals and terror merchants from descending the escalators. I can’t remember seeing a police officer in the bowels of my local underground station, striding the platform … not ever. Perhaps they travel undercover like Marvel’s super heroes. One moment an ordinary commuter, the next Mighty Plod, a spinning dervish donning tights, a mask and a yellow fluorescent cloak, ready to confront a fare dodger, baton raised, yelling the terrifying command, ‘show me your Oyster card.’

Seems safety is down to us, the amateur MI5 operatives, better known as law abiding citizens. So, all together now … repeat after me …

‘See it, Say it, Sorted.’

In 2023/24 I was lucky to be chosen as one of the Genesis Foundation’s ten emerging writers. My debut novel is called The House in Mile End: romantic betrayal, Jewish East End gangsters and a mystifying legacy are woven together by a box of love letters from the 1920s. All I want for Chanukah is an agent.

You can also find me on: instagram.com/s.i.royston