‘Are you sure you’re ready to get rid of it?’ I say to Aunty Jo as she drives us towards town.

‘Never more certain about a thing,’ she says.

We pull up outside the house and it’s very obvious that there’s no one home. He is probably in the pub, like he always is on a Friday night.

‘OK, let’s do this,’ I say.

We get out and drag Ricky out of the boot. Still looking ravishing in Aunty Jo’s wedding dress, we tiptoe him to the front door. As I open a wheelie bin, Aunty Jo tips him in.

‘Leave his feet poking out,’ I say. Aunty Jo closes the lid, making sure that two bony feet hang out over the top.

‘OK, quick. Let’s go,’ she says.

We jump back in the car and spin off. Aunty Jo stops at the first phone box we see.

‘Off you go then. Go and do the deed.’

I dial 999.

‘Hello. Police, please. Yes, I’d like to report some suspicious activity. I just saw a grown man throw a human skeleton into a wheelie bin.’