Te Radar: Hapless Kiwi crosses line with Aussies

Upon arrival in Australia I was required to jot down my occupation on the immigration form.

I wrote "Writer".

When the Australian border control officer drawled at me, "So wa'ja wroight?" I simply replied, "Wrongs".

This may have been my first mistake.

"Are yew some koind orf comeedieen?" he asked. "No", I replied, "I'm from New Zealand".

This may have been my second mistake.

Still, this has been the week for inopportune statements, that while not inaccurate may be considered injudicious.

I had time to contemplate this while also reflecting on the fact that the searches of those entering Australia appear a little more intimately rigorous than those conducted upon people entering New Zealand prisons.

There appear to be so many phones in our prisons that I am only now realising why they are called cellphones - because they are ideal for cells.

Cellphones should be issued to all prisoners so that beautiful women can mock them from the outside by texting them with a little raunch.

After all, what could be more infuriating to an inmate than having an attractive woman saying she would like to commit all manner of indecencies upon him.

We could only rejoice in the despondency thus created for the prisoner as the closest he can get to the woman is forcing his cellmate to plop a mop on his head and cover himself in mouthwash in order to smell a little more feminine.

Prison officials are complaining that they can't afford detectors to find these illicit cellphones.

I suggest issuing them with cheap alarm-clock radios. Placed in strategic locations round prisons, these will make an unholy "deet dada deet" racket whenever phones are anywhere near them.

I had a lot of time to think about this as I squatted in a Melbourne Airport holding cell.

I have never had a very good run with Australian law enforcement officials. I was once pulled over for speeding and when asked where I was headed in such a hurry, I replied, "Adelaide".

The policeman said, "You've never been to Adelaide before, have you?"

"How did you know that?" I asked.

"Well, if you had been you wouldn't be in such a hurry to get back."

Issuing me with an infringement notice for $180, he suggested I not bother paying it, as the chances of the authorities pursuing me all the way to New Zealand were slim to negligible.

This surprised me, as I hadn't realised Australian police officers knew words like negligible.

I chose to believe him. After all, why would an Australian policeman lie to a New Zealander?

In a week dominated by people being altogether too honest, I am now beginning to suspect that my third mistake was regaling the customs official with this story as he was putting on his gloves.