Katya comes to a stop outside of a block of run down flats, disappointed that the walk must come to an end. Her Russian boys would have a thing or two to say if she invited a man in even for an innocent cup of tea after so few meetings with him.

"I am a fan of bird humour," she says her eyes dancing as she reaches into her bag for the key. "I would invite you in, but I am afraid a warm my muscles are more in favour of a warm bath to ease tension from the performance."