Q. What’s butch, bitchy and into camo?
A. A Latvian Border Guardess.

People often ask me: ‘is it safe to cross from Kaliningrad to Mother Russia? If you are British and barely speak Russian, I’d have thought, ‘a breeze’. But apparently not.

At the border, a Paramilitary Miss flips the Russian visas in my passport. ‘So. What were you doing in Russia?’

‘Tourism.’

‘But you’ve visited Russia more than once?’

This is really a hilarious answer, given the Russian hospitality industry’s remote likelihood of ever attracting repeat business. And, yes, fair enough. How long does it take to see Red Square and the Bolshoi. However, suppressing a chortle, I say:

‘Umm . . . Russia’s a big country. Eleven time zones, you know.’

‘Eleven time zones? Kaliningrad?’

Witty sarcastic bitch! Kaliningrad is indeed only half the size of Belgium. I’m really beginning to like this woman, even though she was quite out of order considering I was crossing from mainland Russia into Latvia at the time. But clearly the Kaliningrad stamps are bothering her - as they do most officials. And maybe red cars are in poor taste in Latvia for all I know, since she unexpectedly asks:

‘Do you have a driving licence?’

I get out my very old-style, GB licence, which is admittedly tatty and torn having been issued in the Seventies.

‘This is no licence. There’s no photo ID.’

I point out the little groups which show I’m licensed to drive three wheelers, road rollers, agricultural tractors, mechanised lawn mowers and mopeds as well as a car, but she isn’t convinced. She goes into her little kiosk and calls up an adjutant, who also turns out to look quite kinky in boots and epaulettes. They refuse my request to take their picture and become even more suspicious.

What is it about Eastern Europeans and Uniforms?

I have to park up on the right and eat some pre-boiled eggs while my GB licence is taken away for authentication. In the meantime, any cars with an LV sticker are simply waved on through. After a while the LV sticker, in the roundel, reminds me of the old Luncheon Vouchers logo. Anyone remember Luncheon Vouchers? At one time, in the City of London, you were given them as a makeweight for badly paid jobs. It all seems to fit with Latvia and the EU.

Kinky adjutant finally returns with my validated driving licence. The paramilitary girls salute each other, but don’t click boot-heels. Maybe that would have been too erotic.

‘You may go to Latvia’.

And I thought I was an EU citizen returning to the EU.