Tims Times

The metal detector at Manchester Airport was set to maximum, so that the iron in my blood set it off, or else they fixed it to suspicious looking, could be Irish mode with a flick of a switch, so it goes freak out alarm bells flashing lights and the West Midlands Constabulary appear to nick my Irish arse when I happen to pass through. The security guard smiles pleasantly while asking me to - step this way sir, I spread out my arms and get a thorough frisking, including hand up the crotch, then I have to remove my shoes and they go through the x-ray device, it would be easier if I lay down on the belt and went through myself, anyway the same guy hands me back my shoes with the line-these your shoes sir? I am tempted to reply ,-yeah that’s right don’t you remember me you just hand your hand up my hole or -do you see any other barefoot paddys hanging around? or - no I had a brand new pair of nikes or-I like to walk around in my stocking feet, makes me feel more at home, but I just nodded not wanting to let any more accent out than possible.
After passing security everything is ok Zbigniew and Jose in the bar don’t give a tinkers curse where you come from they just serve up the beer and everybody is happy.
In Amsterdam they only checked my passport against the computer and asked for my destination, a trick question of course, they know where you are going, had I given the wrong answer, all hell would have broken loose. I didn’t get the hand up the hole treatment in Amsterdam either thankfully, meanwhile my Swedish co-travellers glide through every security control without so much as a how do you do, I have to get me one of them Swedish passports,….maybe thats what Al-Qaeda are thinking also……