Last week I read an article which claimed back in 1999 Saddam Hussein had been plotting to blow up Radio Free Europe at the top of Wenceslas Square. Thankfully the nutter never managed to pull it off but I suspect this report had been rattling around my head when I saw…the BAG.

I was waiting at a tram stop…late, again. Unlike me however the 12 was on time. It was busy but I soon found a free seat. As I settled down for the journey ahead I spotted a normal, everyday plastic carrier bag opposite. Nothing to worry about there, that is until my mind went off on a little journey of its own.

A bag. An unattended bag. An unattended bag on public transport. An unattended bag on public transport full of potential targets, which included me… Shit, it’s a BOMB.

Yes, yes, I know. There are a million other explanations but Bomb was the one my mind settled on and my mind can be bloody stubborn when it wants to be.

I glanced about, no one else seemed to have come to the same conclusion, or if they had they were playing it cool. Surrounded as I was by all these cool people I didn’t want to make a fool of myself. I had to be sure.

So I kicked it.

Again, not a move I’m overly proud of. Kicking a suspected bomb is not too smart. I’ve seen enough films to know how you’re meant to deal with such things: 1. Carefully examine the bomb. 2. Even more carefully dismantle it and finally… 3. Take a deep breath and play the ‘which wire do I cut’ game.

I kicked it again. The woman sitting opposite gave me a sour look which at first I took to mean she also knew the three stages of bomb disposal and disapproved of my technique. Then it dawned on me. This wasn’t an unattended bag at all. It was this lady’s shopping. And I was kicking it. Fear was replaced with embarrassment.

I smiled the most apologetic smile I could manage but what is the protocol in such situations? Do I apologies to her or her bruised groceries? Just then the lady stood. She grabbed the bag and walked off along the tram. A sigh of relief escaped my lips.

Next minute she was back, without the bag. At last I worked it out. The bag was unattended, she had handed it in to the driver. None of this, oh it’s a bomb nonsense. She exhibited one of those fine Czech qualities I so admire. Pragmatism…

Whether its standing in a queue, filling in a billion forms to get planning permission of dealing with a suspect package on a tram. Just get on with it and you will then achieve another famous Czech goal… Pass on of the problem to someone else.