City of the night. Vibrant floodlit streets teeming with culture, friendly Czech bars, and top quality Pilsner at under 50p a pint.

Yeah right.

Rule No 1. Don't think that the evening action happens in the Old Town centre like other European cities. At night, this and the main shopping boulevard is abandoned to the hordes of middle-aged foreign tourists, and a few tacky discos. Minimum age of entry is 45.

And where are the legion of bars? You need to have first planted a homing device. Friday night, walk one street behind the Old Town square and you'd think you were in Docklands. Totally deserted.

The overnight train to from Poland to Prague was my first time travelling in Polish "klasa druga" (2nd class) and it will be my last. In Poland, first class is so cheap that it is a good option for the internal journeys. But the fare from Krakow to Prague was starting to climb so sacrifices were called for. Unfortunately, every other traveller was also at the altar. No comfy 3-seater to myself here. Try two 4-seaters with 8 sardines. But we were the lucky ones. The carriage hallway was full of people standing for the entire journey. If you went to the toilet you made sure your seat was booby-trapped.

But the guy opposite was Australian so I only had a little trouble communicating in English. Scotty, a London accountant who looked like an advert for Clubber's Monthly - piercings and necklaces for Africa. But a top bloke, if surprisingly for an Australian, lacking a bit of tact. After establishing that the girl next to him was a German, he then proceeded to talk about his trip that day to Auschwitz ("because I thought she'd be interested, you know"), and also another camp he had visited recently in Germany that had modern-day German graffiti saying how Hitler didn't go far enough. With behaviour like that, I naturally suggested we hooked up to hit the town.

So in Prague, footsteps echoing on the cobblestones, Scotty and I roamed the empty Old Town streets listening for the clinking of glasses. I half expected Jack the Ripper to make an appearance. I can see why Prague has got a unsafe reputation - no witnesses.

Finally, down one alley, the beacon of light that is the sign of a pint of Guinness shone out. We had discovered the ex-pat pub. In through the doors to find a quiet Monday-night-type-crowd. On a Friday. Except for Andy from the East End, alone at the bar and well on the way. Small but aggressive, the kind of guy you see leading the wide boys down to the stadium, 5ft tall and eyeballing everybody over 6'5. Still, glad to recount his sporting injustice at the hands of the old boy cricketing establishment. I remember it word for word:

"Got a trial for Middlesex I did. But they turned me dahn - too aggressive they said. I'm an out-an-out quick right? 80 mile an hour. I try and take the cunt's head off every ball, knaa wot I mean? So I'm bowling to this guy right, he ended up playing one time for England, public school toff, and I get him lbw right, playing back, cos every ball before that I was aiming at his head right? Anyway I'm HAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHH?????? at the umpire and he looks for a long time, for ages, and then goes 'Not out'. And, my big trial, I lost it, John McEnroe style, knaa wot I mean? I'm right up in the umpire's face screaming, 'NOT FAAAAAAAAAAAARRRKING AHHHT? NOT FAAAAAARRRRRRKING AHHHT? WOT DO YOU MEAN NOT FAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRKING AHHHT? Then I'm dahn the pitch to the toff, 'YOU'RE FAAAAAAAAARRKING AHHHT, YOU TOFF, AND YOU KNAAA YOU'RE FAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRKING AHHHT!'"

Just not done, old boy. He said that afterwards, Phil Tufnell, the England spinner, who had been watching, came up to him and said "You the Man". But no call from the Middlesex coach.

Andy, living here for 7 months, said that you never knew where the Czech crowd were, they went to one part of the city for a couple of months and then off to another quarter. One of the few entries in the guide book had suggested a club close to the hostel, so at midnight we headed off to that and found it pretty cool, with funky interior and lighting. We spent most of the night talking to a visiting Dutch DJ and his girlfriend who strongly recommended the following night's hard house line-up. And the next day, with no substances but fifteen Red Bulls, a good night was had by all. Communication with the locals was nigh impossible with the noise however. People started getting confused with the "Do" in "Do you speak English?"

Bottom line for Prague is that you have to know where to go. The Czechs, quite rightly, steer well clear of the tourists. Walking around at night, at times you'd be glad to see a rat.

But still, a few gems to take away

Contact: millerjonathon@hotmail.com