So tell me, when you hear Doris Day singing this what do you think of?
And no, I don’t mean the girl on girl action that rumour has it young Doris was so fond of.
Dirty minded buggers that you are.
I am thinking more puppy dogs, fluffy kittens and the smell of moms fresh baked apple pie, right?
Well, how about this? Think film noir, an old and dilapidated carnival in the wee small hours of the morning, filmed in black and white, the torn striped canvas flapping desultory in the breeze and the moonlight playing menacingly over the clowns heads, each frozen in place and waiting open mouthed for the ping pong balls which haven’t come for years, each bearing an uncanny resemblance to our old friend Obo.
See if you can find any fucking fluffy kittens here: