Over there, over here.

Her Royal Highness's Custom agents use sniffer dogs at the exits to the baggage claim - no paperwork, no declarations, but instead beautiful black Labradors who lob their accusations with gently licking tongues and baleful eyes. They must be trained to detect all manner of contraband, but I suspect their skills are most often used to sniff out nothing more explosive than a crateful of mangoes (Incidentally, there is a book out now, a well-reviewed one, called A Case of Exploding Mangoes, which is not what I meant, but deserves a mention). Mangoes were what got a fellow Indian stopped, the last time I came in, the dog sitting sadly and licking the outside of her suitcase, and the customs official coming up and saying, good naturedly, "Okay, what is it that smells so delicious?"

As much as I admire all manner of professional dog, and like to think that somehow they understand and take pride in their work, this business of having them uncover food - that subsequently must be destroyed - is a little disconcerting. I imagine the drudgery, the dread despair they must feel, upon uncovering yet another sweet or savoury destined not for doggie stomach but for dustbin.