As you enter the spa, the last thing on your mind is to cause offence, but imagine how it feels to have you take one look at me and immediately ask for a female masseuse. Don’t you realise we’re all professionals, and that I am just as able to give a caring and sensitive massage as my female colleagues? No matter that their schedules are already twice as busy as mine, I now have to spend the lost hour folding sheets and regretting loss of income.

I wish clients would take greater care to bathe, too. I’ve been doing this job for 20 years, and I’m still amazed that some people come straight from the beach, all covered in sand. And those ever so subtle farts from a barely digested lunch are an affront to my senses.

I am constantly amazed when clients come in wearing boxers that come down to the knee or bikini tops. I’m not at all interested in your private parts, and that clothing prevents me from doing a thorough job. Just because I’m a male therapist doesn’t mean I’m gay or up for any sort of sexual adventure. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been groped by both men and women, or offered large sums to perform “extra services”. This offends the ethical standards of my profession.

Tips are always lovely, but clients who make a point of promising to leave something downstairs, or say they’ll pop back in a few minutes, are annoying. And as for those professional complainers who ask to see the manager in the hope of a freebie, think how that may stain my record. I really do love to massage, but please spare a thought for the therapist.

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