I’VE recently seen adverts with the message that, when a bus is filled to capacity, a reduction of X amount of cars on the road would be achieved.

So, my conscience having been stricken, I thought I should make an attempt at lowering my carbon footprint from size ten perhaps to an eight.

So, boarding a bus, feeling a little self satisfied that I had made the right decision, I sat down on a seat that was severely lacking in the upholstery area where one might expect a reasonable amount of padding to rest one’s bottom on. No sooner had the bus got under way when the pothole-seeking radar detected many of them in close proximity to one another.

I imagine the only seat with springs, or some form of padding, must be the driver’s seat as I became airborne many times and crash-landed on my, by now, badly bruised buttocks.

Gripping the handrail in desperation (and my bruised behind) I was beginning to re-assess my position regarding my future mode of transport.

As the bus rattled and banged on its way I was gradually becoming less concerned with the size of my carbon footprint and more concerned about the damage I may have suffered to my hearing ability and the possibility that I had shrunk to somewhat less than my six feet because my vertebrae had been compressed.

I disembarked with a feeling of great relief. Shaken, stirred, I carried on my way with the thought that if I were to use public transport on a regular basis, I will take a whoopee cushion and ear plugs with me.

Phil Booth, via email