Stuart Alan Jones had done some seriously stupid things in his time, but this had to be right up there with the worst of them. For someone who normally felt no shame, he was absolutely shitting himself.
He looked over to his mother. She could barely raise a smile in support, but her presence was gratifying.
The lights came up. Stuart took a deep breath, and tried not to notice the single bead of sweat running down his neck and under his designer collar.
The woman stepped forward. “Today on Trisha, ‘I flushed my blackmailing nephew’s head down the toilet!'”