Now the Craigster knows how much of a "nuh-uh" it is to answer one's phone in such exalted company, but I was expecting it to be a hot'n'bothered Sienna Miller looking for another chance to paint her face with Craig's Crayon.

No such luck. It turned out to be a sweltering frump who manages one of my fansites, bleating on about her concern for my welfare after "a massive backlash" from the Irish public against my Irish Rail ad.



What's the problem here, potato people? Public transport - fine, it ain't the Craigster's thing but I was trying to show you how easy it can be when you want to use it.

So let's try again.



Get your sorry arse down to your local train station. Try and exude an air of cool, calm confidence.



Make your way to the ticket machines. It's not like they're not gonna be out of order, and no-one else is gonna want to use them so where's the problem?



Shovel your pitiful coinage in and press the on-screen button to get your ticket. It helps if the button has the same name as the station you want to travel to. That's Craigster humour, right there! Savour the flavour.



[sigh] Y'know, sometimes it's nice to be able to do this without having to give an encouraging pat to someone's head.



Anyway, back to ticketsville. Get onto that platform, cause it's time to find your train. Retain the look of nonchalance - no-one's gonna fuck with you today.



Check that timetable. We're on time and ready to rock! No trains delayed, no wildcat strikes, no "TRAIN DUE IN 5 MINUTES" staying on the display for 20 minutes. What, are you kidding me?



Breeze on and take your seat. It's not like the train's gonna be oversold and you end up having to sit on the floor beside the toilet for four hours.



Sit back and relax. It's not like your carriage can suddenly fill up with thirty shitfaced shanty-singing loafers on their way to a cheap weekend spent skulling stout and worshipping the Wolfe Tones in the Gleneagle.



Take in the view! It's not like the train will come to a sudden halt in the middle of nowhere leaving you to gaze at a herd of cows for forty minutes while the driver tries to work out a) which button operates the microphone, b) whether he's really being paid enough to cover the hassle of using the fucking thing in the first place and c) what he'd say anyway.



Enjoy! I'd take public transport a lot more if I could. No, really.

HMEH