“Hi. Might you be able to send an iron and ironing board up to my room?”

It didn’t seem an unreasonable request for me to make at the posh resort in which we’ve been staying on holiday out in Cyprus. But clearly I was expecting far too much:

“No, sir. We don’t let people have irons in the rooms. Policy: health and safety.”

The lady on the other end of the line directed me to an ironing room, four floors up at the far end of the hotel. I explained that I could, honestly, be trusted with an iron – having avoided burning down any of the chain’s hotels in the hundreds of nights I’d spent with them in recent years. She reluctantly agreed to speak to her manager.

A few moments, she called me back:

“Hi. It’s Daniella from reception. I can send up an iron and ironing board after all.” She sounded a little embarrassed as she continued: “But my manager’s told me to phone you to tell you that you have to be responsible with it.”

Me? Responsible? “It’s OK,” I reassured her, as she giggled. “I won’t brand my wife with it. That’s not my thing.”

–

The following morning, I woke particularly early and decided to head down to the pool. I had the place to myself for half an hour – and I always enjoy a good paddle. As I swam, I reflected on the events that had no doubt transpired there just a few hours before.

Very late the previous night: a group of lasses from the hotel staff had found themselves walking past the pool – in which they were forbidden to swim – their duties finished for the day, the guests all safely despatched back to their rooms.

What could be more natural than a quick skinny-dip? They stripped, swam, giggled. Only they’d bargained without the CCTV cameras. The security guard and duty manager soon appeared at the side of the pool, and ordered them out. As the girls stood there – dripping, naked, covering themselves – the manager informed them that such blatant misconduct would be bound to lead to their dismissal when they were brought before the General Manager the following morning.

When they protested, pleaded, he relented and sent the security man to fetch the cane from his office. And the staff were lined up, touching their toes, on the edge of the pool, each given ten stripes and sent on their way in disgrace.