And speaking of the Spice Girls: Melanie B has a passage in her autobiography in which the actual spanking seems a lesser punishment than the long-drawn-out anticipation:

If I did something wrong in front of my mum, she would explode and often smack me there and then. With my dad there was never a spontaneous reaction, it would be next Wednesday after school at 6 p.m. ‘Remember what you’ve just done because you’re going to get punished for it next week!’ he’d threaten.

The anticipation was worse than the punishment. I knew exactly what was coming. I’d walk into a silent room, bend over, get smacked (by his hand or a belt), then stand up and walk out of the room without saying a word. Sometimes he used to count the smacks out loud because if I was naughty twice in a week I’d get a double dose. It was so cruel, yet strangely matter-of-fact.

Amid the frantic whirlwind of life and work I still sometimes wake up in a sweat, thinking, What am I supposed to be doing today? It’s that same feeling of anxiety that I experienced in the lead-up to getting smacked. I used to open my eyes with a sinking heart, thinking, I’ve got four/three/two more days to go. I dreaded it. Sometimes, though, I think I was naughty on purpose, just to get dad’s full attention for a few minutes.