Me and Kirst are trolleying through Stanstead security bit on our way to see blayka, that bit with the x-ray machines and that thing you walk through which goes off sometimes but not others, even though you can be wearing the same stuff.

Anyway, some bloke's waving my handbag in the air.

'Could I look in your bag, madam?' says some bloke. As he clearly works there I say 'certainly' and watch with mild bemusement as he gets everything out.

'Let's see what they've spotted,' he says before tracking down the offending tube of handcream which was bagged in a mini freezer bag before being returned to me. (I know, I know, it makes no sense. He mentioned something about liquids but is a cream a liquid? Why is it safer in a freezer bag?) Anyway, I digress...

'I must apologise for the loose tampons,' I say. I do usually keep them corraled in my make-up bag but there had been some kind of break out. You know how dark it is in the bottom of a handbag, the meaning of life could be in there for all I know.

'Oh don't apologise, madam,' he says, scanning my camera with what looked like a big pair of tweezers with a bit of cloth at the end. 'I see all sorts. One man had accidentally left a week old sandwich in his bag the other day. And a banana. I had to get them out. That was disgusting.

'And then there was the bloke with the gimp suit in his hand luggage. "Why did you have to put this in your hand luggage?" I asked him.'

Why indeed. Nearly a week later I still can't work it out.