Later, Evan suggested getting frisky in the bath. I've never been a huge fan of baths. Where others see bubbling tubs of hot water, I remember that time I got my big toe jammed in the cold tap and ended up having insane no-frills hot monkey sex with the eight firemen who were sent to rescue me.

Although the feel of my tanned, shapely bottom in the warm bath was a bit of a turn-on - it was like that time I went on a tequila/tapas night with the girls and we all wore incontinence pants and Jane's burst first and I laughed so much I was sick and got off with the bouncer who escorted me out - I was getting seriously frustrated with Evan's foot in my face.

I suggested he pull his knees up to his chin, but he seemed to think that toe-jobs were every girl's fantasy, and I didn't have the heart to tell him otherwise.

So as I absent-mindedly placed my full, juicy lips round his malodourous digit, I started to think about what was really important - me. My needs. My urges. How was I satisfying them by munching on a pink five-pronged cheesy kebab?

I spat it out just as Evan requested I use my teeth to alleviate his athlete's foot and made it very clear that he would have to do more to satisfy me.

There was only one solution: the shower. It was cramped, and we had to pull the curtain across when someone burst in to pinch off a loaf. On the plus side, we did discover several new uses for the massaging showerhead. You can rub it on your privates to produce a not unpleasant sensation.