In a move that has sent tremors through the British psyche and caused a measurable spike in gin sales at Dover, the European Union has announced its shiny new Entry/Exit System (EES). Yes, the same Brussels bureaucracy that gave us the straight banana and the metric martyrs is now poised to inject a full syringe of administrative agony into the already tortured artery of holiday travel. For the uninitiated, the EES is a digital border system that will require Britons to scan their passports and fingerprints upon entering the Schengen Area.
No longer will you be able to shuffle through a sleepy passport booth with a grunt and a half-eaten Wotsit. Now you will be digitally disembowelled by a machine that judges your soul based on your thumbprint. The government, in its infinite wisdom, has issued a crisis warning.
They are advising travellers to pack patience and snacks. I say pack a flask of something stronger. The chaos is expected to be biblical.
Picture this: a thousand heat-stricken families, their children weeping for ice cream, their fathers sweating through their polo shirts, all queuing for hours to have their biometrics captured by a system that looks like it was programmed by a committee of angry toasters. The French are rubbing their hands with glee. The Spanish are polishing their 'No Vacancy' signs.
And the British public? They are doing what they do best: forming a queue. But this queue is different.
This queue is a monument to our post-Brexit existence. A slow-moving, agonising reminder that we are no longer loved, no longer welcome, just a damp island of desperate people in Need for a sunlounger and a lukewarm pint. The system is scheduled to launch in October, which is peak time for half-term horrors.
The ports are already groaning. The ferry companies are stockpiling apologies. And the government's official response is a pamphlet titled 'Be Prepared.
Be Patient.' I have a better title: 'Be Very, Very Afraid.' The Eurosceptics will tell you this is European overreach.
The Europhiles will say it's just sensible security. I say it's a grand tragicomedy, a farce for the ages, starring you, your family, and your rapidly melting holiday budget. The only winners are the coffee shops at the border.
They will sell lukewarm lattes for a tenner a pop to the desperate. And the losers? Everyone else.
Especially the hard-drinking, hard-queuing British public, who will once again prove that they can endure any indignity as long as there's a pub at the end of it. So stock up on sandwiches, download some podcasts, and kiss your passport goodbye. The era of frictionless travel is over.
Welcome to the era of friction burn.
