How to seduce a Border Force officer

There was only a handful of us arriving at Bristol on flight 6114 from Nice. Oscar and I had the leisure to choose which of the four available UK Border Force officers we most liked the look of. None of them were your usual bruisers. One was a careworn, perhaps broken old man and during the brief wait in the taped corridor we speculated on the nature of the tragedy that had brought him here to this. My speculative theory was that he had impulsively married an unpresentable woman, who had turned out to be an incurable alcoholic who beat him. Oscar’s was that he had been discharged from prison as being too frail to constitute any further danger to the public.

The passenger he was presently dealing with either didn’t know that he had to fill in a Public Health Passenger Locator form or hadn’t bothered. The old lag wasn’t acerbic.