APPEARANCES can be deceptive. Oh boy. The York pub landlord who has banned all headwear to keep trouble out of the place may have a shock coming.

Not every kid who wears a chav cap will kick your head in and steal your mobile phone. Not every man in a black suit with his white collar worn back to front is a respectable man of the cloth. And what happens when a policeman turns up in his bobby's helmet to sort out a scrap. Will he be refused entry for wearing head gear?

Appearance is all a big con and half the time we are conning ourselves when we adopt a particular uniform in the herd-instinct desire to belong.

In their struggle for individuality over the decades, young people have changed their appearance, not realising they were merely signing up to a uniform - whether it was as Teddy boys, bovver boys, punks, chavs, mods, rockers, Manchester United supporters, you name it.

Official uniforms are the biggest deception of all. It is drilled into us to respect the authority of a uniform. So any smooth-talking con man who puts on a gas board uniform, flashes a card that he got printed round the corner, has a passport into our homes to take what he likes.

I've finally discovered what ties are for. I once bent down to pick up my young grandson and he grabbed my tie and asked what it was. When I told him, he said: "What's it for?" I was flummoxed. I didn't know.

But now I do. It's a key that opens doors. Wear a tie - along with other clothing, of course - and you are accepted as 'respectable'. It also hides the egg yolk on your shirt front.

Some night clubs will not admit people wearing denims or trainers. Denims can cost five times the price of smart trousers, and trainers are astronomically more expensive than leather shoes. Why are they not acceptable?

Talking about uniforms, I spent a freebie week in the company of other journalists with the army in Berlin. One night we went off to a casino and one scribe was refused entry because he was not wearing a tie. The flunkie on the door offered him a 'house' tie - a tasteful little number - and suddenly he was in. He took the tie off as soon as he got in and started playing the tables. The tie had not changed his character. He was a gambler when we went in and a gambler when we dragged him out before he could cash yet another £100 cheque.

Later on, we went to a club and were warned by our army hosts not to buy a drink for the hostesses. Their expensive whisky was tea. Say "Nein. English. Kein geld no money," they warned us. The topless hostess who approached me and smothered me with perfect breasts caused some amusement as I spluttered "kein geld." The beautiful lady turned out to be a man.

Even more proof that appearances are deceptive came on the same trip, at a posh dinner in the officers' mess.

The army insisted the journalists wore bow ties as they turned out resplendent in scarlet tunics, black cavalry trousers and waistcoats woven with pure gold thread.

Everyone seemed to be called Major Urqufart-Jettison and it looked like a dull evening to come. Until the port had been passed round and the brigadier (who knew what was coming) excused himself.

The scarlet jackets and expensive waistcoats were removed, folded and hidden under chairs, then the serious drinking started. After two hours, the place looked like a bomb site. Carpets were covered in broken glass, regimental silver in pieces, pictures smashed with billiard balls, and officers sodden head-to-toe with beer thrown in the boys' rowdy games.

One young lieutenant who tried to go to bed earlier was dragged from under his duvet, stripped naked and handcuffed to the flagpole overnight.

Appearances can be deceptive. The number of comments I make about my wife in this column, readers might have surmised I have some affection for the woman.

She'll kill me for that one - and she looks as if she wouldn't hurt a fly.

Updated: 09:40 Tuesday, May 02, 2006