“Is Maria working today?”“No,” she says. “Got binned the other day. Last one in, first out.” Sure. Everyone’s cutting costs these days.�...�D’you know where I might find her?” I ask, trying not to sound too disappointed or look suspicious.“There was a sign in Wilko’s window the other day," the girl says. ”Might have gone for that.”Two minutes later I’m in Wilko’s and sure enough, in the back right-hand corner, a small female figure is squatting, rearranging something on the bottom shelf, her own. I decided to accept the situation and get it over with. Mrs Jackson moved a chair to the centre of the room sat down and patted her lap. "Come on then," she snapped. I moved to stand in front of her and unbuckled my belt, my trousers fell to the floor around my ankles and I shuffled and draped myself over her knee. I could feel my face growing red as my hands landed on the carpet, just then Mrs Jackson lifted her knee sending me further over on to the floor, then before I could do anything. More

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