I wouldn’t really describe myself as a touchy-feely sort of person.

I mean, I’m not dead set against the idea of shaking hands or even the occasional embrace. It’s not a crime for goodness sake.

But for someone like me, to have a Government directive that insists we should avoid touching each other altogether, well it’s a bit of a godsend.

I’ve been practising the facial expression that’s supposed to convey the idea that I’d love to give you a big hug, but to my great disappointment, it’s just not allowed at the moment. I mean, what can you do? The injustice of it all.

Very sad, but there it is.

Once this expression is truly perfected, not only is it a great excuse to avoid the unwanted clinging but, if deployed with enough panache, it actually evokes sympathy.

Poor old Tony. If only he were allowed to give people the hug he really wants to.

And the current guidelines even outlaw the air kiss! This really is the icing on the cake for me. As a founder member of the campaign to - Ban All Contact, but Particularly Air Kissing, or BACPAK as we’re better known, this new directive has come none too soon.

The air kiss is particularly irksome for me. It is completely and totally pointless and if ever there were a case for on-the-spot fines to be imposed then we have no better candidate. And if the air kiss is also accompanied by a “Mwah, mwah” noise, then the fine should be instantly doubled and a custodial sentence considered.

We do, however, need to draw a clear distinction here between air kissing and air guitaring, which is a thing of great beauty and should be encouraged.

To help remind ourselves of this essential difference, I suggest we adapt the mantra taken up by the animals in George Orwell’s Animal Farm. In this short novel to remind themselves of the order of things, they chant “Four Legs Good, Two Legs Bad”.

I myself have been practising my adapted slogan around the house by casually repeating out loud “Air Guit Good, Air Kiss Bad”.

This chanting has caused great irritation and puzzlement from my wife, but then she always was a bit of a hippy anyway. Always prone to unsolicited acts of physical affection that one. And she has not even renewed her membership of BACPAK this year, even though she didn’t join in the first place. You get the picture.

Mind you, she has a very definite and successful way of declaring her own total exclusion zone, because when she farts, let me tell you, no-one would dare stray within two miles of the boundary, let alone the required two metres for social distancing. It’s the most effective defence against human proximity I’ve ever encountered. Fair play to her on that one.

And thus, gentle readers, armed with only our own wits and a the blessing of a fair wind (or in my wife’s case, a noxious wind) to set us on our way, we step forth into an uncertain future, a troubled world indeed. Those wishing seeking further information on BACPAK membership, please write to me directly.