Lucie Miller always loved Christmas back home in Blackpool. Her Mum running a still-frozen turkey under the hot tap at ten. Great-Grandma Miller half-cut on cooking sherry by eleven. Her Dad and her uncle arguing hammer and tongs about who was the best James Bond all through dinner.

Quit arsing around and get to work!

“What a stinking, lousy thing it is,” mutters the pantie manufacturer. “And they don′t know how it works — where it goes — they can′t even see it.”

The pardale swift, and the tyger cruel.