… is an 80’s film starring Daniel Day-Lewis and Brenda Fricker.

It was also a source of amusement to me when I recently went on holiday.

Check-in at the Self Service desks was quick and easy – now that we are old hands at it. Security was another matter though. The rest of the family all went through with no problems, but as I passed through the scanner, it beeped, even though I had removed every piece of metal from my person – save for my fillings.

I was directed to then go through the super scanner thing.  I assumed the hands-up, legs-spread pose, as directed. The guy checking it wasn’t happy  with what he was seeing and decided I needed further investigation.  “Is it alright if I touch you?”, he asked, pulling on a pair of blue latex gloves.

“Well, if you think it will help, I’m game”, I said.

“Good. Do you have anything sharp on you?”

“Only my wit.” I replied.  He let out a small laugh, pretending he hadn’t heard that particular response a hundred times already.

He felt up and down my left calf.  And then my right calf.  And then the left again.  Then he brought out a small step and instructed me to put my left leg up on it. He felt up and down my calf again.

I thought this would make a good photo to stick into the album and mouthed to my daughter to take a picture. She did so and immediately got a bollocking by a very stern looking woman in uniform who forced her to delete it and watched over her shoulder as she did so.

Meanwhile, the guy was still feeling up and down my calf and inside the bottom of my jeans.  I offered to drop my trousers, if that would make it any easier, but was told that wouldn’t be necessary.

He then took a small wooden stick with a cotton pad on the end of it, out of a sealed cellophane wrapper and took a swab around the outside of my left shoe. He  put it into a small machine to the side and pressed a button.  The machine hummed and whilst he waited for the result, he turned to check on a chap in a wheelchair who had drawn up alongside me.

He fussed around the wheelchair, checking it over thoroughly and then started checking on the chap himself.  Meantime, I’m stood with one leg up on this wooden box and swaying a bit as I’m starting to lose my balance.

He finished with the guy in the wheelchair and motioned the next person to come forward and started to pat him down.

I coughed to get his attention, as he had obviously forgotten about me and I felt that if I didn’t put my leg down soon, I was likely going to fall over.

He looked at me and then cast a glance over his shoulder toward the machine. “You can go”, he said, matter-of-factly.

“What was that all about?” asked Mrs Masher, as I threaded my belt back onto my trousers.

“I have no fucking idea”.