No

Mrs Hudson picks up the cup of tea and gently lays the tray down.

“Well, can’t let it go to waste,” she says, and takes a sip of it, but then grimaces. “Could do with some sweetening, maybe two lumps.”

She takes the cup and places it under your balls, and then, despite your protestations, lifts the boiling liquid up.

You scream in pain as your balls begin to boil, and then she removes the tea, looks at it. “Now it’s too hairy,” she says, and throws the remainder of the scalding liquid over your chest.

While you write in agony, your screams echoing through the room, Mrs Hudson picks up her tray and starts to leave.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be such an ungrateful bastard next time,” she says as she reaches the door. “Besides, your pain’s only just beginning.”

As she leaves, another woman walks in, her eyes set on you.