When old Cliffie is feeling a little mischievous, he sometimes livens up a border guard's day by keeping his regular passport in his pocket and whipping out his flashy diplomatic passport. He tried it one time when he was travelling from Bulgaria to Macedonia by road.
The immigration officer in his little roadside hut gave a cursory glance at the passports of the other passengers in the vehicle, and then he came to old Cliffie's passport. He flicked through the pages, poked his head through the little window and asked old Cliffie's nationality with a grunted "Narodnost?". Old Cliffie gave him one of his cheery smiles and replied: "Britanska". The official then turned to a colleague and said: "Got a bloke here says he's British, but this isn't a British passport, what's the code?" His colleague shook his head and went back to the magazine he was reading. With audible sighs, the first official tapped away on his keyboard but the computer screen kept rejecting what he entered.
Old Cliffie, who had crossed that particular border before, took pity on him and told him the code: OO. The official entered the code, the computer pinged its acceptance and old Cliffie sauntered back to the car, humming the James Bond theme.