‘Kiss me mucho,’ sang my husband with a revolting leer, ‘and we’ll soar. And we’ll dance the dance of love forevermore.’
I poured myself a whisky in a vain attempt to catch up, and returned to my task.
Not so much was the subject of my researches, and I soon wondered why it had only recently begun to annoy me.
It qualifies as a catchphrase, I think, though some dictionaries of slang list it too.

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