It’s not my fault my mum was a pervert, okay? I didn’t ask her to give birth to me like this. But I am what I am, and I’m not ashamed of it. In fact, when mum was pregnant, the doctors weren’t sure she’d be able to sustain the pregnancy with a baby like me. But she did.

In the delivery room, one of the nurses, who hadn’t been told about my … condition, actually fainted. And then I popped out, with a snout instead of a head, with bulbous, gentle cattle eyes, and tiny stubs of horns on my forehead.

And mum thought I was beautiful. She never let me feel non-human. She named me Tor, which turned out to be an appropriate name when I grew up. When I was a teenager, I realised that what I wanted to do was very far from what everyone else expected me to do. I wanted to be an accountant.

The only guy who’d hire me was a gangster. I didn’t mind. During the day, I do his accounts, a lot of obfuscation, mainly. And in the evening, he sometimes invites me for entertainment. When his goons go out to scare people, I just lurk in the background, wearing a hood, letting my snout show. It’s fun.