FAQ tip: Detention

Haha...

Yeah, something like this... Top ten things not to say to an IO:

1. I am here to marry my third wife...
2. Do Tesco coupons count as sufficient savings?
3. Where can I go in London to get on the dole?
4. I ran out of room on the form to claim all 12 of my dependants, so I just quit after 6, is that OK?
5. Do you have a list of what you consider "terrorist organizations" so I can just make sure I am answering correctly?
6. I am just coming back from [insert European country] just so I can get a new 6 months stamp in my passport.
7. I have to admit, you British are great, the last time I was through Heathrow I found the detention cell quite nice thought the bed was a bit hard.
8. My dog ate my passport...
9. Yeah, I met her three weeks ago over the Internet and I figured I move to the UK and marry her, we are real soul mates.
10. I heard English women are easy...

-Kit

LOL. Very funny thread - and I was in need of a laugh! 

How about adding to that list: "A place to live? I just thought I'd squat."

Enter the arbitrary world of London Terminal C that cynical young immigration officer Henry Brinks inhabits, where any non-EU citizen approaching immigration control had better watch their footwear. According to Henry, the wrong kind of shoes indicates a knock-off. He describes such a victim, an African wearing a shiny suit and white plastic boat shoes sporting oversized tassels. He is fated to refusal before he even reaches the desk:   Anything with tassels and you're asking for trouble.  Meanwhile, Argentineans get baited over the Falklands, and a long-resident African couple is interrogated on the colour of busses in Bath before getting refused.

When a flight arrives, the chief officers come out sniffing the dirty air for someone to knock off, someone to bounce.  Performance is measured in the number of knock-offs. Many use delaying tactics or pick from the queue those who they think are quick refusals - keeping an eye out for the dodgy footwear, no doubt.

Meet the Fleisches, an American mother and son team who always travel with a pair of ornate ceremonial knives intended to murder the Queen in their pursuit of a feud dating from the time of Charlemagne.

You can feel the desperation in the pen or holding area where refugees are sent: It is a dark place, with a perpetual air of impending trouble and its own unique smell of spilled coffee and sweaty feet. Turks, West Africans, Tamils, Somalis┘ Many showing red-eyed signs of being detained in the pen for several days, children making half-hearted attempts at play.

Refusal Shoes, by Tony Saint

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/arts/main.jhtml?xml=/arts/2003/06/22/bosai22.xml

WELL!!  Garry,  cheer up my friend, you do a lot of people a lot of good with your kind heart and soul.  But thank you for the 'tips' - I won't wear shoes with tassles when I come to the UK, or with plans to murder the queen.  (On another note - I still get teased about the year I was in the UK and both Princess Margaret and the Queen Mum died! - Truly, I had nothing to do with that!)

I had to wonder if my clothing had anything to do with my refusal - plain black, v-neck shirt, jeans that were absolutely tattered, and black suede 'Rocket Dog' clogs. Oh - and the black hair... and coat. Probably wasn't best that I approached passport control looking like some goth punk wannabe in mourning.

Ugh.

Also - never tell the IO you've been fascinated with England your whole life. Something tells me that probably didn't go over too well with the Chief IO. And don't tell them that you're going to help keep house during your stay. I made that mistake. I figured since I'd be staying there for seven weeks and leeching off of my host, it'd be the least I could do to help keep the place tidy. Wrong! NO work, either paid or unpaid!

Which brings to mind something rather ironic that happened just recently. My boyfriend came to the States to visit me this past weekend, and when he landed at Heathrow on Tuesday morning, you'll never guess who he ran into! The same IO that handled me and my case when I tried going to visit last December. There he was, standing at the citizens passport control. My boyfriend didn't have to pick his booth (but he did!), but when he approached, he said 'Ah! [instert IO's name here]!' Once the IO realized who he was, I guess he flinched a bit and took a step back. (There was an investigation concerning my case, thanks to my DP. One I'm sure the somewhat green IO won't forget anytime soon.) My boyfriend offered him a nice little smile and said 'Don't worry, mate. I'm not going to hit you.'

We got a giggle over it.

Thanks for posting this, garry!