‘We were planning to cut it off,’ Blessing tells her meekly. ‘But there’s so much swelling around the washer that we couldn’t see how to get the cutters in there without doing more damage. That’s why we called you.’

‘Good observation,’ Dr Patel tells her as if praising a dog. ‘We need to drain the blood out of the penis first. Treat it like a case of priapism.’ She turns to me. ‘Are you comfortable with treating priapism, Tilly?’

‘Comfortable enough,’ I assure her. ‘It’s not something we treat regularly, but I’d numb the area with local anaesthetic and then drain from as many sites as required using a needle.’

Maurice obviously doesn’t like the sound of this at all, as his face turns ashen.

‘You mean you’re planning to stick needles in Maurice Minor?’ he asks, horrified.

‘It’s that or risk having to amputate,’ Dr Patel tells him matter-of-factly. ‘The longer we let this go on, the more danger there is of permanent damage to your penis. It may already be too late, but we won’t know that until we deal with the current situation. Are you happy to sign a consent form for us to proceed?’

The threat of amputation has obviously had the desired effect, as Maurice nods mutely and Blessing disappears off to sort out the paperwork. I take this as my cue to go and fetch the relevant equipment for the procedure.

‘Right,’ Dr Patel announces when I return with a trolley and Maurice has signed the form. ‘I’m going to give you an injection to numb the area, and then Tilly here will start draining the excess blood from your penis. Hopefully, once that’s done, we’ll be able to see what we’re doing to get the washer off. Any questions?’

Maurice shakes his head and closes his eyes as Dr Patel inserts the small needle and delivers the anaesthetic. After a minute or so, she flicks Maurice’s penis lazily with her fingers.

‘Can you feel that?’ she asks.

‘No.’

‘Good. Off you go then, Tilly.’

‘Please be very careful,’ Maurice begs.

‘I’m always careful,’ I assure him as I insert the needle and begin to draw off the blood. After a while, Maurice Minor is still far from pretty, but it’s a lot less swollen and we’ve got a much better view of the washer. Dr Patel hands me what, to all intents and purposes, is a miniature pair of bolt cutters. At the sight of them, Maurice looks like he might faint.

‘Be particularly careful with these,’ Dr Patel warns me. ‘We just want the washer, nothing else.’