It was a perpetual source of embarrassment - trying to stop mum kissing me in public, looking away when dad kissed mum as he set off to work, deciding the right moment to lean forward and try to kiss Pam Wilson on our second date at the Brownmoor Youth club or scrubbing away the lipstick stains left by Auntie Hilda's sink plunger kiss at Christmas. You see as a spotty teenager at the time I didn't find anything at all simple about kissing. You know, when I first heard Nellie Lutcher singing and playing that little song years ago it wasn't her wonderful swinging jazz style that attracted my attention so much as the sheer perversity of the lyric.
