It’s always a worry isn’t it?! Imagine bumping into a sex worker you have visited while you're weighing your plums in Tesco's.....with your wife.

I’ve bumped into a few punters in my civvie life: Once while walking down Oxford Street in London, one of my regulars tip-toed past me with his wife. I’ve bumped into regulars in supermarkets, and once in a pub.

Another time, I was in a club with a female friend who was about to explode with anticipation due to the fact a guy she had fancied for ages was there too. She sought him out and introduced me. Another regular.

The rule of thumb is, ignore, ignore, ignore. Or if you can’t ignore – don’t let on, and disappear as soon as you can.

But the most cringy bumping-into-a-punter moment for me, was when I went to see my doctor for the continuing nasal problems I have. (Yes, don’t retch, it wasn’t an embarrassing itch.)

My surgery was one of those where you call on the day and see who you’re given, so I’d visited around 4 different doctors over the space of a couple of years.

You know what’s coming. I was to see a different doctor this day, and, as I walked into his surgery and met his eyes, the poor man’s face turned ice white. I sat gently on the chair – I thought any fast movements might result in Doc having a heart attack – and whispered: Just treat me like a normal patient.

Doctor: Are you ok?

Me: Yes, it’s ok, please don’t worry.

Now give me everything I want! (Joke.)

A few months later, I was laying on the surgery table having a cervical smear. The nurse was busy doing her thing, when The Doc breezed in as if he owned the place (he did) to pick up some papers. Thankfully he didn’t look over.

I left shortly after that, and as lovely a regular as he was, I’m pleased to say I never did see him again in a working girl/punter capacity. That would be wrong and he could be struck off.

And I will never tell.