As debate lines go, it was no ``I knew John Kennedy'' and yet, who knows, maybe Shannon's challenge to moderator Tim Russert early in Tuesday night's faceoff: ``Would you like to see my tattoo?'' landed her the coveted body art vote.

I don't know about you, but after Shannon dropped her little pick-up line, I had trouble paying attention to the so-called issues that dominated the rest of the evening: health care, taxes, education, blah, blah, blah.

All I could think about was that tattoo: Where was it? What was it? When did she get it?

Did she go wild one night in college and have a lizard tattooed up her ankle? My guess is no. When Shannon was a coed, nice girls didn't go in for that sort of thing. So it was probably more recent. Maybe she flew off the handle after yet another reference to her husband, ``Enron Emmet,'' and ran out and got an ``Enron Stinks!'' tattoo on her upper butt (to use the technical term) to show voters just whose side she's on. Or, perhaps heady with victory after the Democratic primary, she used campaign funds to have an ``I (heart) the Bay State,'' emblazoned into her cleavage.

Or maybe she's got a butterfly on the base of her back, a la songstress (and gubernatorial muse?) Britney Spears. Or maybe, inspired by Julia Roberts and Keifer Sutherland, she and Tom Finneran each had a Chinese character inked on the back of their shoulders.

My mind was racing all night, and as a voter, I awoke this morning eager to learn more about Shannon's policies - on tattoo parlors, that is - when I heard that her spokesperson called WRKO radio to say that Shannon had, er, ah, been kidding. There's no tattoo. Must have missed that part.

And she accuses Mitt Romney of misrepresenting her record! At least he never ran ads showing Shannon skulking into a tattoo parlor with a smarmy voiceover: ``Her tummy isn't the only place she likes red ink.''

Like most citizens, I've come to expect, and, I guess, accept a certain amount of deception in politics, but about normal, trivial matters, like a pol's position on campaign financing or the environment.

But lying about a tattoo? Who would do that?

``I would,'' an undecided voter told me. ``When you get to be a soccer mom, after a while you'll do anything to give yourself a little mystique.''

That I can certainly understand, especially since Shannon is competing against one of People magazine's Most Beautiful People, a man who was willing to appear in a bathing suit on TV, but what scares me about the tattoo fib is this: A person who would lie about a tattoo is capable of lying about anything. Even her weight. And I need a governor I can trust. Or at least one who has a tattoo she or he can show me.

Mitt, you got anything?