The Scots Dragoon Guards react calmly when a Serbian lorry roars towards them out of the night, down the spooky no-man's-land which separates their checkpoint from Serbia proper—and it turns out, on careful inspection, to contain a consignment of crude household brooms. Once he has satisfied the bemused nato peacekeepers that he is carrying no weapons, the trucker amiably tosses them a brush; he makes the very Balkan assumption that anyone stopping vehicles must be looking for a sweetener.
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