Electricity in my veins,” is how Francis Bourgeois describes the high he gets from trainspotting. Watching an engine roar past gives him goosebumps all over his body and can even make him cry. That’s why the TikTok star, better known as The Train Guy, spends most of his spare time chasing trains across the country.
One of the first people to go viral on TikTok for something other than silly dances, Francis (not his real name but more of that later) is on a mission to bust the stereotypes about locomotive-lovers. Nobody has ever been this excited about trains before. Ever. And it’s infectious — he’s racked up over four million followers and 50 million likes on TikTok, and shared his passion with celebrity fans including pop star Joe Jonas and football legend Thierry Henry.
He’s even found himself catapulted to fashion icon status, starring in an advert for a Gucci x North Face collaboration where he plays a conductor aboard a steam train that is puffing through the Alps. Francis, beaming in his vintage rail garb, is a beacon of purity amid the hedonism that unfolds as a group of fashionistas board the train. It’s this wholesome quality that is fuelling his transformation from geeky student to soon-to-be-global superstar.
This week sees the publication of his first book — a charming mix of memoir and manual which evokes the impact growing up near the trainspotter heartland of Willesden Junction had on him. He plans to pay further tribute by getting a tattoo of its track layout on his arm. And, as if he wasn’t busy enough, he’s also made a sort-of TV show for Channel 4. Sort-of in the sense that it’s a series of digital shorts for YouTube.
An episode will drop every week and will show Francis schooling famous faces, including rapper AJ Tracey and England footballer Jesse Lingard, in the wonders of trainspotting. In theory, he’s meant to be interviewing his guests but in reality it’s more a vehicle for the world to see more of Francis and understand what it is, besides trains, that makes him tick. There are tears and “tone wanking” (when a wannabe trainspotter tries too hard to get the train to toot), and it’s heartwarming and kinda great.
It seems suitable then when he asks to meet outside a south London train station. His gangly frame is instantly recognisable and he’s dressed in neon trainers, khaki shorts and a zip-up jacket with an eye-hurting pattern. He’s clutching a fold-up scooter, his preferred way to travel when he’s not taking trains, and is just as smiley and engaging as he seems on-screen. Within seconds he is sharing the story of how he and his girlfriend of four years, Amy, spent the weekend travelling to Carlisle and back via Birmingham to see a specific train. Amy — who his book is dedicated to — is not a trainspotter herself, but is “adjusting to the way of life” and has “learnt by experience” that trainspotters can be sexy.
It’s certainly been a wild ride for the 22-year-old engineering student who went viral during lockdown when he was at home in Somerset. A childhood train enthusiast, he says he “suppressed” his passion during his teenage years out of a desire to fit in. The fact he sold his model railway, aged 16, to buy “cool clothes” still haunts him. His first TikToks, made with his younger brother in early 2021, were fake “interviews” with celebrities like Kylie Jenner, who he pretended to politely proposition while wearing an 80s rail conductor cap. But it wasn’t until he strapped a Go-Pro to his head, distorting his face and adding an alien-like strangeness to his videos, that his view count started to hit the millions. “I was out watching for a Class 158,” he recalls — one of his favourite trains — and as it whistled past he decided to wave at it and say “that’s a cute honk”. The Go-Pro’s trippy fishbowl effect, coupled with Francis’s gremlin-like giggle, made the video — which has been watched six million times — unintentionally hilarious.
Since then, he’s swapped his studenty garb of frayed jeans and fleeces for a steampunk-style rail guard uniform —jacket, overcoat, tie and hat. Francis says the outfit helps him feel true to his trainspotter-self. “My fashion taste has crept into a blend of railway memorabilia and streetwear,” he says, breaking off to show me his Northern line socks, worn inside out, and his official London Underground slogan T-shirt. “I love to experiment,” he says, with a nervous giggle, admitting that he recently tried eyeliner. “I might do it again”.
After the look was complete, the celebrity fans followed. While the Thierry Henry video was set up by sports brand Pro Direct Soccer, the Joe Jonas hook-up was totally genuine. Jonas, who is married to Game of Thrones star Sophie Turner, was in the UK and messaged Francis on Instagram asking to go trainspotting. Their first attempt at meeting-up failed but Francis tried again. “I suggested a location, date and time and said to myself ‘Let’s see if this works.’”
On the day, Francis pulled into the car park of a National Trust Centre at the allotted time of 11am. It was a bitterly cold January morning and he’d packed a picnic including a choice of vegan and non-vegan BLTs, but there was no sign of the popstar. “I started to think ‘oh no’ and then at 11.02 this Mercedes pulled up. Joe got out and turned out to be the loveliest guy,” says Francis. They did four hours, with Jonas getting rewarded for his efforts with some top quality “tones” and a turn on the Go-Pro. “The thing I’ve realised about celebrities,” Francis says “is that they’re just nice, normal people.” While he doesn’t yet see himself in that league, he admits it’s getting harder for him and Amy to enjoy a romantic dinner in peace.
Just then, as if on cue, our chat is interrupted by a request for a selfie from a fan. Francis happily obliges and she asks me to take the photo from a high angle so it looks similar to his videos. “My heart is beating so much right now,” she confesses. Francis giggles, pats her arm and says “nice to meet you”’.
It’s that endearing awkwardness that has seen this Gen-Z hero hailed as the authentic antidote to the air-brushed aspiration of older millennial influencers. But it’s that authenticity that is the subject of ongoing debate. The question of whether Francis has faked his love of trains to build a following and make money working with brands blew up last winter when it was revealed that his real name is the far more mundane, Luke Nicholson. Pictures also surfaced of his younger self in trendy streetwear with his hair gelled back. One photo showed him bare-chested and lifting weights — something it was deemed a “real” trainspotter would never do.
Francis was stung by the backlash. He responded with a video telling the story of his obsession with trains. The video drew supportive comments from the likes of fellow viral star Amelia Dimoldenberg and the TikTok accounts of the England football team and NHS England. “I did feel really down about it,” he admits. “Trains are my identity, and I finally feel free to experience my passion. Being called a fraud dragged me back down — I wanted to respond and show that trainspotters come in all shapes and sizes.”
In person, it’s hard to doubt Francis’s passion for trains. He peppers his conversation with a dizzying array of facts and talks a bit too much about heritage railways. But it’s hard not to believe that some of his quirks —the outfits, the slapstick humour are created for the camera. So, where does Francis end and Luke begin? “I almost don’t feel like it’s me living this life,” he muses. “If someone shouts ‘Francis’ in the street then I know it’s me but there is a disconnection. Eventually, I want to be known as Luke, because it’s more me, but I do enjoy retaining a bit of privacy.” The name was inspired by seeing sculptures by the artist Louise Bourgeois at a Somerset gallery with his dad. And he admits that moments where he does things like fall off a chair as a train roars past are staged. “I love absurdist humour, so I try to intertwine it. I could just show trains going by but I also love making people laugh,” he says.
As for the future, he’d quite like to find a way of fusing his creative and engineering skills (he has one year left of his masters) possibly by making sculptures that “show that machines have emotions and feelings”. He’d also like to buy a disused locomotive and turn it into a travelling nightclub — electronic music is another passion and he’s even made a few train-inspired tracks. But in the meantime, he seems to be enjoying and maturing into his role as The Train Guy. There’s an episode in his TV show where he takes Lingard to a diesel festival, where rail enthusiasts ride around on diesel engines for kicks. He gets some dirty looks and retreats into the corridor, telling Lingard he feels like the people who hate him the most are in his own community. “I’d got bogged down by the fact that some people in online forums were still calling me a fake,” he says. Helped by Lingard, Francis faces his doubters and is amazed to see that most of them support him. As the train pulls away, everyone aboard claps and cheers while Francis stands on the platform and has a little weep.
The only train-related subject he is reluctant to discuss is the recent strikes. The biggest wave of industrial action in Britain for decades, the strikes have brought the country’s rail network to standstill at regular intervals since June, with more walkouts planned for early next month. Despite his followers urging him to join the likes of RMT chief, Mick Lynch , on the picket lines - Francis has so far stayed silent.
“It’s difficult as a railway enthusiast and not someone who’s involved with politics,” he says, choosing his words carefully. “I love trains for the way they are, for their engineering. I just want there to be efficient services and for people to have a happy journey.” But what about the rail workers, and their demands for improved pay and working conditions? Is he on their side too? “I want people to be treated fairly and for people to feel kindness, so yeah.” He clams up and looks worried that’s waded too far into a subject that is at odds with the innocence of his brand.
“I see myself as an influencer of happiness,” he says. “I just want people to watch my videos and feel pure joy.” Regardless of whether he is real, fake or some hybrid creation — it’s clear that Francis Bourgeois is doing just that.
