Birvidik

Leaving Itea was slightly delayed by the appearance of the port police, who indicated that we should attend their office toute suite and bring our documentation with us. We've honed these procedures down to a fine art and it's usually fairly painless. Bob has all the required documents arranged in a case, along with quite a few others which are not really required but are sometimes requested. We also have pre-printed crew lists with more personal details about us than you'd find in a Home Office wet dream. All of this is finished with a flourish of our big, sod-off ship's stamp.

We should have known from the uniform. Port police usually dress in a restrained dark blue combat top and trousers, big boots and a baseball cap. They're usually either conscripts trying to work out what to do, or old hands winding down to pension day. The former have an air of nervous confusion and are grateful for any help you can give them in telling them what they and you need to do. The latter affect an air of not unfriendly, world weary resignation and just stamp anything that's put in front of them. Not this one.

He was about 24, and had on a full set of number 1 whites, immaculately washed and pressed. Instead of the baseball cap there was a crisp, white cap with a peak that, if he walked in direct sunlight, blinded passers by and sent truck drivers ploughing into pavement cafes. There was enough gold trim to enable the re-establishment of the gold standard and a sodding great gun which would have given Dirty Harry an inferiority complex.

My, but he was keen. Not particularly au fait with the regulations or paperwork, and (unusually) not much of a linguist, but my God was he keen. Unusually for the Port Police, he spoke very little English and no other languages other than Greek.

This was a bit of a disadvantage as, ahead in the queue, were a French couple who spoke virtually no English, and a Spanish couple (ditto). Bob could see he was in for the long haul, and settled into a chair in the corner.

After the same set of forms had been screwed up, thrown in the bin and re-started three times Bob's patience snapped and he joined in the melee. Translating (loosely) into and out of French and Spantuguese via broken English and kindergarten level Greek the forms were eventually completed to official satisfaction.

Then it was Bob's turn. Confidently he laid all the paperwork on the desk, ship's registration certificate, insurance, boat-driving licence, passports and crew list, ceremoniously imprinted with the ship's stamp.

Pursed lips and an intake of breath. Oooh dear, not good enough. Not good enough at all. Despite all the requisite data being on the documents and already printed out and copied for him to cherish and keep, he wanted all the data transcribed to forms more of his liking. And he wanted Bob to transcribe it. He lent Bob his pen, which was white mother of pearl with gold filigree (Bob suspected sergeant's stripes) and what looked suspiciously like a polished black peak on the cap.

The trouble was that his forms were designed for vessels such oil tankers, VLCCs, and cruise liners. And he wanted every space filled in. No blanks or crossings out.

Bob answered (almost) truthfully that Birvidik carried no large cargoes of crude or distilled petroleum products, neither was it carrying goods classified as hazardous, dangerous, toxic or explosive. Furthermore the number of passengers, including those in private cabins, was zero. The restaurant did not carry bonded stores with a value in excess of 3000 euros (much as we'd have liked that). Shiny boy was obviously unaware of the concept of multitasking as he had difficulty grasping that the roles of Captain, first officer, bosun, radio officer, chief and second engineers, purser and deckhands were all carried out under a crew manifest of two people.

When this had been done to his satisfaction he set about calculating the port and transit levies due. This required several sheets of paper, two calculators and three attempts, after which he came up with the grand sum of 11 euros and 88 cents.

Bob gave him a 20 euro note. He looked at it a little bemused, then unlocked and opened the cashbox on his desk, which was empty. This was strange as the previous two crews had paid him (11 euros and 88 cents each, since you ask). Then he opened his wallet and peered inside. It seemed to contain nothing but old post-its and a 20 euro note.

Then he gave Bob back his note and told him to go and change it at the shop opposite, which Bob did. On his return he passed over 11 euros and 50 cents , which prompted a flurry of further searching for small change. Deciding to risk the chance of being arrested for attempted bribery, Bob told him to keep the 12 cents and left.

The Birvidik Theory of Officialdom:

The competence and co-operation of the official is inversely proportional to the flashiness of the uniform.