I’ve rattled on about Germany for a bit now so I’ll just wrap it up neatly with something alcohol-related and be done with it.

One day on a vodka mission to my local supermarket in Konstanz the check-out chick, a cantankerous middle-aged woman with pink hair, doggedly refused to sell it to me until I produced some form of suitable identification.

It transpired that neither my university student card nor my Australian driving license were satisfactory, despite both having my birthdate as well as photos. Though all the details were identical, she with the pink hair refused to believe that the two photos were of the same person.

At this point three other checkout chicks stopped to observe and throw in their two cents’ worth. This was during peak hour trolley traffic in the supermarket, with queues longer than the aisles and everyone in the mood for a bit of controversy.

Before I knew what was happening my ID cards were being passed about amongst ‘helpful’ locals, and roughly translated the following heated discussion ensued: ‘Well, that picture, the grumpy-looking one, that’s definitely her. But the other one looks a bit like Kermit the Frog.’ ‘Mm you’re right, it’s obviously a fake card’. ‘Give over! Look at those goggly eyes, is definitely her.’

This carried on for a good ten minutes with Pink Hair steadfastly insisting that should I wish to purchase alcohol here I’d have to return with my passport (imagine: ‘Lettuce? Check. Toilet paper? Check. Cheap wine? Check. Passport? Bugger.’).

Eventually I left empty-handed, having learned a valuable lesson about life in Germany. You can’t even get drunk without the appropriate paperwork.