22. Customs Officials quail before me

Either I have terrifying psychic abilities to occlude the minds of border and immigration staff, or they're just scared when they see the picture of my mighty beard and moustache.

But either way, I've never been refused access to another country. And yet, compare the picture in my passport, with a recent picture of me. It looks nothing like me, does it? (Occasionally a Swedish border guard will point that out "you have shaved off - your beard?") Somehow, I've resisted saying "of course, it was making me look like a terrorist", but you think they might pick up on the fact that my passport shows my eyes are a warm brown, rather than the cold, dead grey they are in real life.
There's also things that could be said about the effectiveness of biometric passports, national identity cards, profiling and other such wastes of money, but I think my protean eye colour, plus the fact that some of my chums have accidentally boarded planes in the last month while carrying Stanley knives, effortlessly displays superiority over those charged with guarding the edges of our countries. Simply put, I am mightier than the state's sphincters.