I hope CMAT knows how proud we are of her. Certainly, pride was the overwhelming emotion that enveloped the crowd at her sold out St Anne’s Park gig in Dublin last weekend. I mean, she already knew she’d made it, having been at the centre of Friday’s Liveline discussion. While the discussion on RTÉ Radio 1 was for saddening reasons – prompted by CMAT’s declaration that comments about her body have tarnished her success – truly there is no apex greater than triggering a Liveline phone-in. Standing in the crowd at St Anne’s Park, I felt there wasn’t one of the 20,000 people who wouldn’t go to war for Ciara Mary-Alice Thompson, the self-titled Dunboyne Diana. “She is like our Diana,” I gushed to my friend as we roared along with CMAT’s songs, which perfectly capture the life of a young woman in post-recession Ireland and give her fans impeccable rallying cries to bellow in a field in Raheny. No, CMAT didn’t marry a prince (yet), nor will she be immortalised by a tragic demise (if I have anything to do with it), but she does embody the wholesale adoration that was typically prompted by Lady Di. There’s a campness associated with the adulation of both women, and the way CMAT has embraced it all is perfectly pitched. I love her. I love her songs, I love her style, I love how she moves around the stage like a woman possessed while her Very Sexy CMAT Band support her with enough charisma to generate 100 Elton John tribute songs. CMAT’s most recent album, Euro-Country, is a love letter to Ireland but also offers stinging commentary on the powers and processes that have decimated parts of our culture and economy. And it was on my epic journey home from St Anne’s Park that I thought, “CMAT could write a song about this.” I had decided, once again, to put my faith in Dublin Bus. When will I learn? “Use public transport,” the concert promoters had pleaded. With no car parks, no special city-centre services and no hope of engaging a taxi, we didn’t have much choice. They’ll have put plans in place, I told myself, sort of like a mantra, hopeful of some joined-up thinking in the travel strategy for a hectic summer weekend in a modern European city. Delirious with joy after the show, I separated from the group with another pal to help her locate her bike on the quieter side of St Anne’s Park. I then trotted to the bus stop, my Transport for Ireland app promising that three buses were due in the next hour or so. I would bide my time and get one of those to the city centre. Simple! They might have even put on extra buses, I thought with idiotic naivety as the first of the rain began to fall. A few dozen other people were already at the stop with the same idea, and lots more were milling about, frantically jabbing at taxi apps and flapping redundant arms at the few cars passing. If the first two buses failing to materialise were the opening verses of the CMAT song about how the gobdaws in power have failed to provide a serviceable public-transport system, then the tragic scene of the third and final promised bus of the night sailing past us an hour later, seemingly packed to the gills and ignoring our frantically waving arms, would be the belter of a bridge. [ Fans on CMAT’s St Anne’s Park gig: ‘She speaks the language of love and the language of Ireland’Opens in new window ]A lone garda in one of those lightly branded Covid-era vehicles pulled up to tell us that it was highly unlikely any more Dublin buses would be making an appearance but that the promoters were sending around a “clearance” vehicle, and to wave down the double-decker that was doing the rounds. Obviously, the clearance bus didn’t stop either. I resisted the urge to ring 999 to report the various transport injustices as a crime and began the three-hour walk home in the rain. At 1am, somewhere in Clontarf, I spotted a taxi turning into a housing estate, hedged my bets on the car reappearing on the main road and made a beeline for the estate entrance. My chariot home cost me €40, but I would have paid double. If CMAT does want to write a song about my public transport plight, I can offer some title suggestions. Dublin Bus Blues is a little obvious but gets the point across. I’d Be Quicker Getting Home from Slane offers some cultural context. How about Double Wrecker, BusTed, Wheely Bad or Bleep Card? Call me, CMAT. Let’s get in the studio.