‘His penis.’ Blessing finally decides to come to his aid. ‘He refers to it as Maurice Minor.’

‘I’m a classic car enthusiast,’ Maurice explains. ‘It’s a bit of a pun.’

For a moment, Dr Patel stares at him as if he’s some kind of lunatic, before recovering her composure and continuing in her previous brisk tone.

‘What’s the matter with him… it?’

‘It’s probably best if you take a look,’ Blessing advises her. ‘It’s easier than trying to explain.’

‘Fine,’ Dr Patel sighs as she draws the curtain to give us privacy. ‘Do you mind showing me, Maurice? Ah,’ she observes once he lowers the blanket to reveal the aforementioned Maurice Minor. You know how the penis is often referred to using an aubergine emoji on social media? Maurice’s penis looks like it’s been auditioning for the part. It’s horrifically swollen and a hideous dark purple colour. It only takes a moment to locate the cause.

‘Is that… a washer?’ I ask, pointing at the metal ring encircling Maurice Minor’s base. It’s a little like the kind of thing you’d put under a bolt when you’re assembling furniture, except much larger.

Maurice nods, wearing an expression of pure misery.

‘How—’ I begin, but before he can launch into what I suspect will be the IKEA-furniture version of the ‘I was vacuuming in the nude and fell on the Hoover nozzle’ lie, Dr Patel cuts me off.

‘We need to get that off, and fast,’ she states. ‘How long has it been there?’

‘Since eight o’clock last night,’ Maurice mumbles.

‘You mean you’ve had that thing on your penis for over twelve hours?’ Dr Patel demands, outraged. ‘Why did you leave it so long to come in?’

‘I kind of hoped everything would go down and I’d be able to get it off,’ Maurice tells her.

‘I see. And presumably you’ve been yanking and tugging at it, which would only have made the swelling worse.’ She snaps on a pair of surgical gloves and lifts the penis to inspect underneath, making Maurice wince. ‘The skin is broken under here,’ she observes. ‘We’ll need to treat that to make sure it doesn’t get infected. I take it the washer wasn’t sterilised?’

Maurice looks like he’d quite like the earth to open up and swallow him as he shakes his head. Dr Patel is making no effort to conceal her disdain, so I don’t entirely blame him. Poor Blessing is desperately trying to look anywhere other than at Maurice Minor, but I have to confess a slight ghoulish fascination. This was obviously some sort of sexual misadventure, but what on earth was he trying to achieve?

‘Blessing,’ Dr Patel practically barks. ‘We need to get this thing off. What were your thoughts?’