At first, we thought there was applause. But then we recognized Mistress Madita was back. Like a walking mural, because of her tattoos, she takes care of a very poor soul again. And so, the little bastard is greeted with a barrage of slaps! We stopped counting at 100 because it just didn’t stop. Of course, there is no pity from our side, because if you put yourself in Madita’s hands you have to reckon with it. And because sporting activity stimulates the flow of saliva and Madita doesn’t like to swallow, the spit has to go somewhere. How lucky that the little bastard tears open its beak like a nestling!

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