Ok: 1998, we had been living in the UK for the past six months, had a summer hoilday booked in France, driving via the Chunnel. I got the passports out the night before and shock, horror, my 5yo daughter's was 3 months out of date. Desperate call to Australia House, rerouted to Canberra due to the hour and the response was, "You're not going."
cough.
Called UK Borders or whatever they were called, at Dover. Got a pleasant character who said," If you don't try, you won't go. If you do try, you might. So we did the packing, heavy-hearted, thought about where else we might go in the car (Brighton?!) and drove the couple of hours down to Dover in the morning. I had a letter to send and I thought, Oh well, I'll send it after we get rejected.
French immigration is on the British side. I put my daughter's passport on the bottom of the pile of five. I told the kids that this probably wouldn't work, but they must not say a word and if by some chance we got through, the must be like James Bond and keep their cool, saying nothing until the train pulled out. Absolutely no cheering! Charming French immigration agent, looked at my well-used passport on top, smiled and said, "Ah, Australie!" Stamped the lot without checking dates. Wished us a nice holiday, waved us on and the kids did their James Bond thing beautifully. We just all looked at each other wide-eyed as we drove onto the train. After it started to move, the kids went off.
Had a great holiday in the south of France and the best bit was that the Brits stamped her passport coming back in (we weren't so worried but it could have been a bit messy). I sent the letter late (might have been a bill payment).
I have another good one from the Chunnel involving a smuggled Saudi cat (not mine).