Some unusual customs

Press, 10 February 1989, Page 7

Some unusual customs

Ken Strongman

on television

Operation renaissance; target; suitcase switch-job; coverted op; Quebec one; meeters and greeters; the lads at the finger; romeo ten and tango ten (’e’s ’aving a drink in the departure lounge). So began “The Duty Men,” the Red Sammy being the first of a multi-part 8.8. C. documentary that was so well made as to seem acted. It features the customs and excise guardians of the big little island’s shores. From surveillance (hard word that) at Heathrow to a weekly cocaine meeting (bit of a snort) between senior investigative officers, it was a satisfying perve into another world. It is certainly a welcome change from animals mating in the jungle or a rundown on all the insects on an oak tree. Seeing a suspect questioned was particularly pleasing somehow. These customs and excise men are a little like the police crossed with bureaucrats. They drag their speech through a strainer, urging one another to “cultivate sources of information.” In their lives, people “make their way” rather than “go,” and they might be “lifted” or “taken out.” Such words are ex-

changed by quiet investigators, their voices redolent with cigarette smoke, either in small rooms or behind rather grubby scenes at places like Heathrow. They speak glibly, even with an easy panache about geographical exotica such as Rio or Santa Cruz, dodgy passports from Alicante, and how to mark a red samsonite suitcase (The Red Sammy, get it?) These duty men (there is barely a woman in

sight) have a definite look of petty officialdom, the clue being given by the frequency of a ‘tache or a beard which grows only round the fringes. This general feel of officiousness probably develops because they have some very boring things to do. They have to spend hours making decisions about the subsequent disposition of a bag (the red sammy) which is going round and round on a carousel. “The Duty Men” is all very interesting and will be good to watch for the next few weeks, but some of it will remain forever impenetrable. It is the sort of cryptic documentary where the camera seems to be attached to the person at which it is directed. Whatever contraption achieves this manages to direct it at the person’s left ear when seated, or at his shoulderblades when moving. This makes it seem both real and mysterious, although why is hard to say. Much will be revealed in this series, such as the fact that these customs men actually have control over when, or indeed if, a particular bag comes up onto the carousel, if they care to exercise it. This

gives them a lot to answer for, not the least why they ensure that mine is nearly last so frequently. But the most interesting thing about “The Duty Men” is that it all sounds like a great game: "Positions lads, tallyho." Grown-up children are getting paid for doing the sort of thing they did in the playground a few years ago. Society, that is, other people like themselves, have legitimised and institutionalised the games of childhood. How marvellous, all these clever little boys running society so enjoyable. This series could generate mixed feelings. Tailpieces: • Seeing an Afghanistan guerrilla kicking a rocket launcher in an attempt to make it launch was a strangely human inhuman moment. • Is “Wetere cover-up” a brand of plastic mac? • Surely there is someone other than Alan Burns to do the tennis commentaries. His particular brand of patronising, always right comments spoils rather than enhances the action. Eventually he did stop calling them girls. though; someone must have had a word with him.