Passport Control humour?
When I was a student I lived in the South of France for 9 months as part of my degree. Although all I really did was get drunk and work off hangovers sitting in sunny pavement cafes I retained my English pallor.

On the way back to Blighty for the final time I was queuing quietly to go through passport control when I noticed the man in front of me giving me funny looks.
Thinking nothing much of it I just ignored him, until I noticed that when he went to passport control he spoke intently to the man in the booth and they both started to give me funny looks. At this point I started to become a little concerned.

When I arrived at the passport control booth I gave the guard my sweetest smile - he remained entirely stony faced and proceeded to ask me a number of questions about when I arrived in France, how long I had been here and what had I been doing.

Now I *knew* all my paperwork was in order (and I won't even begin to describe the kafkaesque nightmare I had to go through to get it that way) but when at the end of these questions he said that he could not possibly let me leave the country my jaw hit the floor and all I could think to say was "why?" (in french, obviously!)

At which point he explained that I was too pale and what would people think if I left after 9 months with no suntan? I had hideous visions of being forced to lie in the sun until I began to look like one of the leathery permatanned denizens, but thankfully he accepted my explanation that English skin just doesn't tan and let me on the plane. bastard.
(I_AM_MY_EVIL_TWIN_SELF, Tue 7 Mar 2006, 14:58, Reply)