search and obligingly bent over, he revealed a string dangling down from his bum. Now that threw up two possible explanations: he was either smuggling drugs and the string was part of the packaging; or he was smuggling a very expensive firework and it was the fuse. I strongly hoped it wouldn’t be a firework – the last thing you want is an arse exploding in your face; I’d always prided myself on never being shitfaced at work. So, I thought, sonny Jim here is obviously smuggling drugs – I was certain of it. And I was wrong. It turned out that the dangling string was actually the string of a tampon that was currently
in situ
because of this crew member’s anal syphilis. Which is a nice thought for everyone to take with them on their next flight when the meals come around.
There were actually stranger things that could be found on, and in, people walking through airports. In the days before pornography was so readily available on the internet, we were, you might say, very hot on pornography. The UK pornography laws are very strange as no MP has ever really wanted to get involved in sorting them out. I don’t think there’s much career mileage in handling the nation’s porn. So in our situation we used the Customs Consolidation Act 1876. Even though the law-makers had no idea what technology was to come, there was a section of the Act that is in constant use, right up to today. It states that we can seize any goods that are likely to deprave a youngster’s mind. We were in a position to use the Act on a daily basis as we would get six to eight Amsterdam flights a day. The porn capital of Europe never let us down.
Mr Taylor looked to be a well-dressed businessman. He was actually a Member of Parliament and a fairly senior politician. I was having a slow day so pulled him over for a chat in the green channel. The initial questioning was fine and he stated that he had been to a business meeting with the car giants Ford in Amsterdam. Big mistake. The trouble with giving too much detail to a lie is that the detail, unless it’s perfect, can give you away. What the passenger didn’t know was that, as well as all the Amsterdam flights, we also had the Ford motor company’s own private airline flying out to Cologne three times a day. So Mr Taylor’s story didn’t quite hold water.
Not knowing what I might be in store to find, I asked him to pop his bags on to the exam desk and he instantly transformed into a loud and very accomplished verbal abuser. He started swearing and I was called every name under the sun and a few from the dark side of the moon. I was told that I had no right to go through his bags. It’s not just that Customs officers, like everyone else, have an aversion to being sworn at; it was that Mr Taylor’s behaviour was what they call a ‘tell’ in poker – something that inadvertently reveals what you are thinking. Once he had lost his temper, I knew that I was going to find something in his bag and I had a feeling it would be drugs. But I was wrong. His bag carried not drugs but porn films, and loads of them, wrapped up in his socks, pants and shirts. Right at the bottom of his case there was, much to my surprise, a monster fifteen-inch-long bright-pink rubber dildo. Now whatever my personal view on this – and whether I couldn’t give a chuff or not – Customs officers are like the police in that, once they become alerted to something, they have a professional duty to act upon it.
Mr Taylor was still going mad as I seized and bagged the evidence and he was still swearing at me as he repacked his suitcase. In the interview room, the direction of his future depended on one of two answers: whether or not they were for his own use or to give to other people, which would have been the more serious charge of intent to supply. Luckily, he chose the right answer, and Patrick and I escorted him to his awaiting car and, inside, his waiting wife. As he climbed into the driving seat of his brand-new
in situ
because of this crew member’s anal syphilis. Which is a nice thought for everyone to take with them on their next flight when the meals come around.
There were actually stranger things that could be found on, and in, people walking through airports. In the days before pornography was so readily available on the internet, we were, you might say, very hot on pornography. The UK pornography laws are very strange as no MP has ever really wanted to get involved in sorting them out. I don’t think there’s much career mileage in handling the nation’s porn. So in our situation we used the Customs Consolidation Act 1876. Even though the law-makers had no idea what technology was to come, there was a section of the Act that is in constant use, right up to today. It states that we can seize any goods that are likely to deprave a youngster’s mind. We were in a position to use the Act on a daily basis as we would get six to eight Amsterdam flights a day. The porn capital of Europe never let us down.
Mr Taylor looked to be a well-dressed businessman. He was actually a Member of Parliament and a fairly senior politician. I was having a slow day so pulled him over for a chat in the green channel. The initial questioning was fine and he stated that he had been to a business meeting with the car giants Ford in Amsterdam. Big mistake. The trouble with giving too much detail to a lie is that the detail, unless it’s perfect, can give you away. What the passenger didn’t know was that, as well as all the Amsterdam flights, we also had the Ford motor company’s own private airline flying out to Cologne three times a day. So Mr Taylor’s story didn’t quite hold water.
Not knowing what I might be in store to find, I asked him to pop his bags on to the exam desk and he instantly transformed into a loud and very accomplished verbal abuser. He started swearing and I was called every name under the sun and a few from the dark side of the moon. I was told that I had no right to go through his bags. It’s not just that Customs officers, like everyone else, have an aversion to being sworn at; it was that Mr Taylor’s behaviour was what they call a ‘tell’ in poker – something that inadvertently reveals what you are thinking. Once he had lost his temper, I knew that I was going to find something in his bag and I had a feeling it would be drugs. But I was wrong. His bag carried not drugs but porn films, and loads of them, wrapped up in his socks, pants and shirts. Right at the bottom of his case there was, much to my surprise, a monster fifteen-inch-long bright-pink rubber dildo. Now whatever my personal view on this – and whether I couldn’t give a chuff or not – Customs officers are like the police in that, once they become alerted to something, they have a professional duty to act upon it.
Mr Taylor was still going mad as I seized and bagged the evidence and he was still swearing at me as he repacked his suitcase. In the interview room, the direction of his future depended on one of two answers: whether or not they were for his own use or to give to other people, which would have been the more serious charge of intent to supply. Luckily, he chose the right answer, and Patrick and I escorted him to his awaiting car and, inside, his waiting wife. As he climbed into the driving seat of his brand-new
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