After the Second World War, apocryphal bands of Japanese soldiers were supposedly hidden so far in the jungle that they’d never heard the conflict had come to an end. For all we know, some of the Emperor’s aged legions may still be kicking around in a makeshift camp they constructed before the mushroom cloud went up. A similar phenomenon can be observed at the railway station in Weston-Super-Mare, where the proprietors of the platform refreshment stop seem unaware that old-style British Rail buffets surrendered in the 1980s. As a result, they continue to serve unappetising, unbranded sandwiches from an unknown supplier and have kitted the place out with fruit machines that flash so fast that there should be a warning to epileptics on the door. Toddlers with earrings, left unsupervised by their tattooed and pierced parents, mess about with grubby machines selling ‘toy capsules’ and bouncing rubber balls. It could easily get depressing, but the clientele is having none of it. Patrons si