My Dad’s Take Over 3 - Enjoy Your Trip

For the time I am away on my holidays I have given the keys of my blog to my dad - Peter Davies. I hope he takes good care of it. I know he will. This is the third in my dad’s takeover week.

‘Excuse me Sir, is this your suitcase?’

‘As far as I know, squire’ I said to the Customs Officer and couldn’t resist adding ‘it’s hard to tell what with Whizz-By Airline’s low-cost policy of no luggage labels, no tickets, no in-flight nibbles and no sick-bags.’

‘Do you mind opening it please’ said the impassive stalwart of HMG. My joke about having a stash of heroine froze on my lips as I opened up my case to reveal about a hundred tightly-packed transparent bags of white powder.

Predictably HMG-bod said ‘Would you mind walking this way Sir’ and before I knew it I was in a dismal room deep in the bowels of the airport and was being greeted by the little old lady who I’d sat next to on the plane and who was in a right old stew. She told me that three identical cases including hers and mine had been searched. With a jab of her thumb she indicated that the spivy looking bloke with the Brylcream hair on the other side of the glass panel was the owner of the third case.

It was probably the fact that I lifted myself several inches off my seat to get a better view of Spivy that made him raise two surprisingly well-manicured fingers high in the air!

Before long I was moved to a prison-like, windowless room and I convinced myself that the forlorn wave from the little old lady would be my last ever contact with the outside world for the foreseeable future. I sat dejectedly trying to decide in what order I would demand to see my wife, my solicitor (but I didn’t have one), the creep who had sold me my suitcase – and oh yes, the Whizz-By executive whose decision it was to do away with luggage labels.

After what seemed a lifetime a cheery, yes  a cheery Customs man poked his head around the door. ‘All sorted guv’nor’ he said ‘your case is waiting for you, you’re free to go.’ I wanted to kiss him, instead I tried to say something casual, even macho. What actually came out was a rather highpitched ‘Oh, sorted you said, squire?’

‘Yep’ said Cheery, ‘three identical cases, one with your clobber in it, one with the long elasticated knickers and the Eau de Cologne and one with the smack, of course.’

As I collected my case I heard a terrific commotion and watched in amazement as they led away the drug-runner heavily handcuffed and hurling obscenities to everyone in sight. It was none other than the dear old lady I had sat next to on the plane!

Gripping my suitcase tightly I gratefully breathed in the cool air outside the airport terminal. It was then that I saw the Spivy looking Brylcream character standing in a queue waiting for a taxi. I grinned at him and shouted ‘You must be the long elasticated knickers and the Eau de Cologne then!’

For a second time on that eventful afternoon two surprisingly well-manicured fingers were held high in the air.
Peter Davies