I know, I know, I whinge about this all the time. But it’s about 2:45 AM, I’m knackered, and my resistance is a bit low.

I’m whiling away the time watching junk television. Specifically, about Australian border controls. It’s GREAT watching people lying through their teeth on television. You just KNOW they’re not being truthful. Like coppers, border control staff can spot a liar a mile off. That’s why, though I’ve travelled about A LOT, I have never fucked about with Customs or Immigration. Straight down the line. Though once I did annoy US folk by declaring an apple as I entered the country.

‘Here, it’s off an American airline. They flew me in. On an American airliner. How can that be a problem? They gave it to me. But, me, I’m just cautious. So here’s my apple that Americans gave me and I can’t bring into the country.’

Didn’t go down too well. I got held up a bit for being a bit bolshie.

Anyway, there was a guy trying to get into Oz on a New Zealand reciprocal visa. Oz and NZ have a sort of laissez faire attitude about intercountrty travel that I find admirable, though both have food control customs checks that would make your skin fall off. Fair enough.

The guy had been taken on by a NZ television station to be given the chance to meet his birth mother after 36 years. I was rooting for this guy, I have to say. I’d give a year of my life, cheerfully, to speak live to my mum again, And she died in 1987. She’d bollock me about Susan, I think. I’d like to find out, but it ain’t going to happen.

Good news. The Ockers can operate an ‘extenuating circumstances’ option. Very civilised.

And the man breezed out to meet his mum that very afternoon. You can’t say fairer than that. I welled up a bit.