He leaned in awkwardly, at the wrong angle. I expected it to turn into a kiss, but he was lost somewhere in the ear region, leading with his forehead not his lips. It was barely a nose graze, more of an affectionate head butt. No, I’m not describing the ending of my latest date, but rather our new Prime Minister’s Number 10 ‘miskiss’ with wife Sam (Cleggover was thankfully nowhere to be seen).
I’d only just recovered from an entirely unexpected outpouring of emotion seeing Gordon, Sarah and their two sons skip off to pastures new. All Dave really had to do was grab Sam, kiss her firmly and I would have sobbed. Instead I found myself yelling at the television as David Dimbleby glossed over it – ‘David Cameron, kissing his wife’ – ‘no he’s not, Dimbleby! He’s doing the awkward British public schoolboy shuffle! That is not a kiss!
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