I happened to find myself visiting the UK recently, obviously I had bullets with me, they’re always a good source of amusement when you play the “what do you think it is” game with someone you’ve never met before and then watch female friends at first repulsed then turn and say “erm how much are they I know at least one man who needs one, oh and his dad and maybe my dad and then there’s my brother” etc..

So feeling like Alan Whicker I toddle off to the airport, its a near 30hr flight from here so ensuring I’m wearing loose clothing, slip on shoes, trousers without the need for a belt and a jacket that could pass as smart casual (you never know when you’ll get that lucky upgrade) I filled in my get out of the country free papers and proceeded to X-Ray.

On arrival at the conveyor, I removed my laptop, emptied my pockets and placed my jacket in a separate tray, I walk through the teleporter/terrorist detector unit and hey no beeps wahoo!! I begin to wait for my hand luggage when I heard the thing you always dread to hear at this point “Is this your jacket sir?” suddenly my life flashes before me as I quickly recount where said jacket has been and conclude yup its not full of drugs or lined with plutonium although as the officer points out it does have an object they’d like to see in one of the pockets, where upon I stupidly blurt out “oh its ok its only a bullet” which has about 10 Customs officers reaching for their tazers!!

“No not that kind of bullet, one you stick up your nose”, he looked at me blankly, “it’s the best rated nose hair trimmer on the planet”, I say proudly. Ok so now I’m labelled a crackpot terrorist and not just a terrorist. I go to pick up my jacket as an excitable customs officer unholsters his steel best friend and I reach for mine…

I pull from my pocket “the bullet” and offer it to said officer, explaining its purpose, hes still skeptical as people normally are on first viewing the bullet, but I show him the working end, now he gets it. “Wow have you got anymore” I smile broadly and say yes “I’ve got another 25 in my case” to which he responds “ah well sir I hope you like what you’re wearing as that may be the last time you see your luggage if customs seize it for being full of bullets….. oh by the way where can I buy one”? I give him the good news about our website and then meander off praying my bag turns up in UK……

Well my luggage did turn up, the UK was great, grey, wet, expensive but certainly there is occasionally a great in Britain. I gave away a few bullets, generated a bit of interest and generally  flaunted my favourite man gadget about…

Coming back all was good, except a 3hr delay in Dubai whilst they re-glued the wing back on to the airbus I was about to catch, although I got that lucky upgrade to business class which generally helps, never the less 18hrs from Dubai in one haul is tough going even with free flowing champagne and canapes

The only real pain whenever you land is having to get off the plane every time it stops which you cant really argue with, much as I’d love too. So at Melbourne I made the usual trek through the airport to try get back to the gate from whence we just came; for some reason at this airport they insist on hiding the transit route, it’s like being in a Las Vegas casino, you walk through duty free, its all very bright there’s lots of shiny things wanting your money, but where’s the bloody exit!! There’s a sign saying “passengers in transit” and an arrow then it all just disappears but living in Kiwiville you learn to sense these things and using the force I manage to find my way up 2 flights of stairs round a bend, up another skateboard ramp and there i am at customs again.