Pascal Wyse, the German

"Good afternoon, British Tourist Authority." I am ringing about UKOK. "OK." OK! "What kind of information do you require?" I am coming to England in March, from Darmstadt in Germany, and I have a few worries about travelling to your country. "OK - if you hold on I will try and transfer you."

My tour of Britain begins with a collection of offices and call centres - around six in total. All have the word "tourist" somewhere in the title; one, worryingly, has the word "recovery", but I explain that I haven't had a breakdown; none, it seems, has the foggiest what to do with a German accent that wouldn't fool a fish.

I bang on: I will be needing to write back to Germany while in the UK, but I hear the postal service is not functioning. Maybe there are strikes? "I have a number for our Frankfurt office." OK - so UKOK cannot help me? "It seems not, no." Do you still have a postal service? "The postal service is working at the moment. Hold on..."

They are dropping like flies. "Good afternoon, tourist information, how can I help?" A nice woman tells me my letters will be fine.

So to the next obvious line of enquiry: where can I buy cannabis, which is legal in your country, I think? "It has been given a softer drug classification, but it is not legal. You cannot buy it anywhere unless off an illegal drugs dealer." I suggest "Lämbeth" as a good place to score some "wäcky bäcky", veering dangerously towards a South African accent. "No, this is a pilot scheme by the police. It's not legal, but they have not been arresting people. I think it was just because so much of their time was taken up with dealing with people with cannabis..." She laughs nervously. "It was easier to let them smoke it!"

Next on the sightseeing list are the Elgin marbles: I hear you have sent them back to Athens. "Oooh... as far as I know they are still there. They certainly were in August." What do they do, these marbles? "I'm not sure they have a purpose. They are from the Parthenon - pictures engraved out of marble demonstrating a story to do with the gods. They are very nice." To my surprise I bellow: Oh vell, I am glad zey are not in Athens! and go on to reveal that I work in heavy industry.

Do you still have factories? Some that I could visit? "There are some but they tend to be very traditional cottage industry. The only place that used to be open was the Ford factory in Essex, but they closed their tour - probably afraid someone would sue after tripping over their shoelace. I assume you will be in London?" And Yorkshire... "Let me have a look there... nothing, I'm afraid... nothing in the north-west either."

I am keen to bring my puppy with me, I explain, expecting to be put straight through to Rolf Harris. "You may need a pet passport. The best people to contact is our Frankfurt office. They have a very good factsheet for pets." Ah, German efficiency.

Tim Dowling, the American

A breathy woman answers on the second ring. "British Tourist Authority, how may I help you?" I ask for "you-cock" but don't have the courage to let this hang in the air too long. Or is it UKOK? "Um, do you have a contact name?" I'm calling from America, I lie. About a British vacation. At this point she seems to know what to do with me. The phone rings two more times.

"Good afternoon, tourist information," says another, much jollier woman. "How can I help?" I start asking for UKOK again. UKOK, she explains patiently, is the name of the BTA campaign for 2002. I ask about upcoming golden jubilee celebrations on behalf of my royal-crazy wife. "The main celebration will be on the weekend from Saturday the first of June until Tuesday the fourth of June." Events, she tells me, include a classical concert in the grounds of Buckingham Palace. Super! I'll take two tickets. "They haven't as yet released details as to how to get the tickets," she says. So what can I book now? "Nothing as regards the jubilee yet. They're releasing very little information, partly because as yet not much is confirmed, and what has been confirmed, a lot of it is classified."

I turn to the delicate subject of foot and mouth. "Foot and mouth is no longer in Britain, as of last week," she says. So it's safe, is it? "By safe, what do you mean? Do you mean in terms of humans catching foot and mouth?" Yes. "Humans can't catch foot and mouth," she tells me sternly, "except in very exceptional circumstances." What's the one you can catch, then? The mad-cow thing? She tells me that's gone too.

What about the trains and the tubes? I ask. I hear they aren't running so good. "That could apply to Britain any time in the last 50 years!" she says, laughing perhaps a little too uproariously. Are they running at all? "Oh, they run, they run. They just don't run on time. It's something that British people are particularly accustomed to."

Now, euros, I say. You people are still the pound, right? "We're still the pound," she says. And how long is that gonna last for? When do you change over? "We don't know yet. We don't even know if we're going to." Huh. Finally, I ask how to book tickets for Cats, because my wife loves it, and can't wait to see the London production. "Er, when would you be wanting to come?" When's the jubilee again? June? "Just so you know, if your wife is very interested in seeing Cats in London, it's actually closing on May 11th." So it's the jubilee or Cats, but not both.

Stuart Jeffries, the Frenchman

Hello, I am ringing from France, I say. I am thinking of coming to England with my family for a short holiday but I am - how you say - a little bit terrified at the prospect. "Hold the line, sir. I'll put you through to the information line."

"Hello, information line," says a woman's pleasant voice. Oh, hello, my name is Laurence Contet and I am ringing from France, from Lille actually. I am thinking of coming on holiday with my family to England and I have a few problems. Can you help me? Is it advisable to take out private health insurance when you visit England? "It's always up to the individual to decide. I don't know what it's like in France, but here you can get a form from the post office. If you live in the EU, you can get health insurance easily for Britain." I see. I am very worried about the NHS and have read all these horror stories about patients lying in wards in their own filth without treatment for days. In pools of blood. The woman's voice, quite properly, becomes noticeably more brisk: "We've not heard that sort of story, sir."

And, you know, some of your English people have been exported to my town, to Lille actually, for operating with. I am worried if I fall under a bus - how will you ship me back to France? And what if I get your flu? Are these terrible stories true? "We don't have that sort of specific information here. Probably the best thing to do is to call our office in France. They will have all the information you need."

Thank you. You see I am just worried because I have never been to England before. It seems - how you say - not to work, with joke trains, dead cows and mad-cow princes. This elicits no response. I suspect I am in the process of being rumbled. Is it safe to see a football match? I try. I hear it is very exciting, but I am worried about your mad fighting hooligans. "What are you worried about?" About getting hit and my family getting hit. And ending up in a terrible hospital. "I think you had better speak to the press office." I think my wandering accent and frankly implausible questions have made her suspicious.

"Hello, press office," says an upbeat and clearly on-message man with a nice voice. I explain that I want to see a football match but I'm worried about it being safe. "It's very safe, sir. There's no problem with foot and mouth disease or anything like that." Interesting: I haven't mentioned foot and mouth disease. I say I would like to see Arsenal, bien sur, because these French players are very good, you know. But I am worried about getting hit by English hooligans. "There's no problem with that any more, sir." Not even at Cardiff City? "I don't know very much about football, but I believe it is quite easy to get tickets for Arsenal."

We will be staying in London and I want to visit some of your attractions. I have heard a lot about the very successful dome. It must be difficult to get tickets for such an attraction? "The dome is actually closed now, sir." That is disappointing. But tell me, how do I get across the Thames now your famous wobbling bridge is closed? Quite possibly, I am rumbled again. "I think you'd best contact the Paris office. They will give you information about how to get tickets."

Patty Marx, another American

Hi, I say, my husband and I are thinking of visiting London with our teenage daughter and we have some concerns. Like the cost. Do you know how much an umbrella would cost? "There are a lot of cheap shops where you could get one for a couple pounds," the woman at the BTA replies. "The museums are free."

I have another worry. We've been reading a lot about Harry and all his drinking. My daughter is 16. I've heard kids can get served no matter what their age. Is that true? "Does she look older?" Well, yeah. "Then yeah, probably. Some pubs you have to be older than 21."

Another thing. My friend just went to London and she said I shouldn't miss Toad in the Hole. Do I have to book tickets? "Toad in the Hole?" She said it's really good. "There's a food toad-in-the-hole? Sausages in a yorkshire pudding mix - it's an old traditional food. Other than that I don't know what it is. I don't know if there's a play. Let me have a glance. [Sounds of her looking through a book.] There's nothing. I'm not sure what she means apart from the food."

My friend also said you can sleep at 10 Downing Street. Is that true? "No." Can you eat there? "Not that I know of. They do have open Houses of Parliament, though." So should we come to London? Is it a nice place to visit? "Lots of people seem to come here."