The One with the Vomiting Gelfling

Got back from Nogland last night and was in the process of trying to clear immigration when a very unfortunate event happened (well not for me). Lucky I was in a fast moving line which I pride myself on being able to pick. I usually see how many desks are open in each line and make sure the immigration officer manning the desk are not smiling (= chatty to people) or frowning (= scrutinise the passport of anyone withour ginger hair). Avoiding queues with families is another handy tip as they are never prepared when they reach the desk and the smaller the children the more likely the immigration officer is likely to try and have a talk with them. As such my theories came to fruition when I heard a lady a couple of desks over ask for the family with "the little girl" to come and be let through. As I turned my head to see why she would be saying that I saw a poor gelfling maybe 5 years old with a gush of vomit pillowing from her mouth. Had I not seen it from my own eyes, from the amount that came out, I would not have believed it was entirely from this child. I doubt a tanked up bogan after a night on the lash, full of booze, a kebab and portion of chips would have come close to this amount. Never the less I continued to move on satisfied that my knowlege of British immigration was absolutely flawless and proceeded to leg it home.