So I was surprised, a few months ago, to see the light flash on as I walked through the metal detector at Gatwick airport.

A man waved a cattle-prod detector over me to no avail and then ordered me to remove my shoes. No please or thank you. The shoes were put in the X-ray machine. They came out the other side.

That's when I made the mistake. 'Are you now sure that they don't contain a bomb?' I asked.

The woman who had passed me my shoes grabbed them back and shouted for a Mr Happe.

He did not appear. She yelled again, much louder. A man who looked like a larger version of Charles Clarke appeared, loomed over me and demanded that I repeat what I had just said. I did so.

Did I detect the traces of a smile around the edges of his mouth? Then he asked me to tell him, for a second time, exactly what I had said. I did.

Instantly Mr Happe's demeanour changed. He said that as I had now mentioned the word 'bomb' three times, he was allowed to call the police. He took both my ticket and passport and those of my wife and marched off to a telephone.

After ten minutes he returned and joyfully informed us that I had been banned from flying and the police were on their way. Another ten minutes passed, then five - yes five - policemen appeared, all armed to the teeth.