It’s one of my husband’s great moans that when he was a boy his mum wouldn't let him buy a shrunken head.

He was living in Southampton at the time, and a weekend treat would be to go down to the docks to look at the liners. In those days there was little security and you could walk right onto the quayside and view the huge ships as their passengers embarked.

Down the back lanes there were various dark little shops with fascinating items for sale – stuffed crocodiles, brightly coloured shells, strange masks, spears and the like. It was through the grimy window of one such establishment that Jeremy, then aged nine, spied his must-have item.

Pressing his nose against the pane, he remembers staring open-mouthed at a wizened, wrinkled head on a stick. It had bolting eyes, a shock of jet black hair and a crumpled, stitched mouth.

It may have been ugly, of decidedly dubious provenance and no doubt horrendously unhygienic, but to this fascinated boy, it offered nothing but possibilities. Imagine the kudos at school as his friends gathered round as he pulled a “real” shrunken head from his satchel.

There was just one problem – how would he persuade his mum to purchase it?

No amount of pleading or promising to be good would make her even cross the threshold of the shop to enquire the price. She put her foot down. Buying a shrunken head was completely off the agenda.

Even though he now realises that the famous head was probably actually a pickled monkey skull which had had “work”, this incident still rankles. Spotting in this week’s TV listings, Headshrinkers of the Amazon – Revealed, he muttered darkly: “I could have had one of those but my mum wouldn't buy it for me”.

Why is it that some men never grow up?

My husband may not have bought a shrunken head, but my sister did buy a real human skull. She got it mail order when she was a student, along with a rather fine set of vertebrae. She’s an osteopath and uses it for lecturing purposes which means she sometimes has to take it to Europe.

Guess what? She always gets stopped at the airport X-ray machine and is regularly searched by a huddle of bemused security bods.

It doesn’t worry her, she’s got used to explaining herself. Thankfully I’ve never had the embarrassment of travelling with her on one of these trips.