Up all night - my kiss and tonic

I've just arrived at Chichester train station with a small suitcase containing my saucy burlesque costume. Joseph, the Hendrick's Gin Kissing Booth host, is by my side with a large crate of bottles in his arms.

We're promoting Hendrick's at the Goodwood races by getting the horsey folk to kiss me on the cheek to earn a free gin and tonic.

"Let's keep four bottles for ourselves," Joseph says, his eyes flashing at me and I know he's thinking about last year when we ran the kissing booth together, and got very drunk and indecent in some bushes.

I smile back and say: "No, I'm going to be professional this year and not get drunk."

He knows this means: "I have a boyfriend so don't be trying it on." I've always had the hots for Joseph and I'm glad I got it out of my system last year.

Neanderthal, my boyfriend, is now my ultimate object of desire - though I'm a little nervous about the fact that I'll have to stay the night at a pub hotel with Joseph. We set up our booth at The Fox Goes Free pub, where most of the punters like to party.

I'm in a classic wooden kissing booth which I lean out of with my cheek alert, ready to be pecked.



Joseph is by my side with a table of gin-filled teacups, brandishing a cucumber - one of Hendrick's secret ingredients. There are also some curiosity cucumber-growing kits to be taken.

"Roll up, roll up, kiss the blushing belle and earn a ticket to try the best gin in the world," he bellows.

Of course a posse of randy old men queue up thinking they're going to snog me but I make it clear that it's my cheek they can peck - once.

"Which cheeks?" pipes up a dirty old codger trying to wheedle in around the rear of the booth. He gets banned. I tell the ruder ones they ought to take home one of the cucumber seed kits for their wives so that they can grow themselves a more substantial man.

On our lunch break I decide to have a siesta in my pub bedroom upstairs.

I'm a little woozy from all the gin I vowed I wouldn't drink and I fall asleep in a patch of sunlight on the bed. Suddenly I'm awakened by a prod. It's Joseph, still clutching his cucumber, and poking me with it.



"Get out of my room," I squeal, batting him off.

"Do you want a cucumber or a co-worker?" he asks, trying to slide under the covers.

"The cucumber! Now get out." I have to muster up all my resolve to send him on his way.

Looking dejected, he obeys and leaves the cucumber on the bed.

Joseph has left me feeling rather fruity but I decide I've had enough vegetables for one day and, leaving the cucumber where it is, get up and go back to work.