When I got to Earl's Court on the Piccadilly Line, I realised that more swearing was on the way. We were all sitting in the carriage and nothing happened and I had the massive feeling of deja vu. Except there was a rather worrying alarm bell going on outside for a minute, then switching off, then switching on again. A few more antsy people than me looked out of the still open doors. After five minutes of this, even I was beginning to get antsy. Advanced mumbling over the tannoy by the driver was no help. By his third announcement, he decided to take the cotton wool out of his mouth and leave his Marlon Brando impressions to Alastair McGowan, and we learnt the train wasn't going anywhere due to something at somewhere else.
On the platform a clearer person had been employed to say that there was a defective train at South Ken and the Piccadilly Line was fooked between Kings Cross and Arnos Grove, so for the second day in a row, it was everybody out.