It's not easy looking after other people's kids. Photo / Thinkstock
Nothing strikes fear in the heart of a working mother like the thought of the nanny running off with her husband.
But that's not the only thing they should be worrying about. Here, seven former nannies confess to some eye-opening antics - all of them genuine.
Charlotte, 30, Winchester:
When I worked as a live-in nanny for six months at a country pile in Hampshire, the father secretly made me promise never to let slip that he had a mistress.
He and his wife were in their late 30s, had kids aged two and six months, and ran a successful design company.
Whenever she went away on business, he would instruct me to tell the toddler that Daddy was away, too - then hole himself up in the guest wing with his lover. The house wasn't overly grand but was large and secluded, with a vast marble kitchen and stuffed animal heads - lions, zebras, bears and foxes - on the walls in tribute to their love of hunting.
Allowing their toddler to play with an unloaded gun as if it were a toy was one of numerous questionable attitudes the couple had to parenting.
The mother confessed to me that she "didn't like babies" and would often leave the infant sitting in the kitchen sink while she took phone calls.
I dreaded visits from the children's grandmother because she treated me like a slave, thrusting her jacket at me when she walked through the door as if I was a coat stand.
And no matter that the baby was a terrible sleeper and it would often take me hours to get him to nod off, she would always wake him up - then virtually throw him at me when he started screaming, telling me: "This is YOUR job!"
As for children's TV, that was strictly off limits. Or so my employers thought. But how else did they expect me to complete my cleaning duties with a toddler and a baby in tow?
Andrea, 47, Kent:
For a year I was nanny to an 18-month-old girl and her brother at their parents' £4 million, five-bedroom house in North London, but I was no Mary Poppins.
The husband was an oil trader and the wife was human resources director at a major blue chip company who liked to wield the stick of authority at home, too.
She always introduced me as "the nanny", and although they were both British she would only speak to her husband in French in front of me, so I couldn't understand what she was saying. He would look at her blankly and refuse to respond.
The more unpleasant she became, the more mischief I got up to, inviting friends over when they were out working or socialising, even though it was banned.
One night, a friend and I burnt the rubber rim around the edge of the oven cooking pasta while drunk on my boss's booze.
Then there was the day another friend and I were so busy watching TV instead of the kids that we didn't notice them ripping open a beanbag full of polystyrene balls. It took us three hours to clean up.
I used to move mirrors around the house if I didn't like where the owners had put them, and, bored one evening, I went through all their personal papers to find out how much they earned and what the house was worth.
The mother wouldn't ever let the children have chocolate but said I could give them carob, the healthy equivalent.
When I discovered that it upset their tummies, I resolved always to give it to them on a Friday, just before I clocked off for the weekend. The mother could never understand why the children had such loose bowels at the same time every week - and always when I wasn't there to clean up the aftermath.
Helen, 27, Dorset:
Last year, I worked full-time for a very wealthy but very hippy family in the middle of the Wiltshire countryside. The mother was obsessed with healthy eating and whole foods, and the three children, aged three, seven and nine, were fed a diet of brown rice, vegetables and pulses.
I felt so sorry for them and thought they were far too thin.
One afternoon, the mother was going out for a tea party with all her rich friends, and she'd said the children could have sausages as a huge treat.
I decided to take matters into my own hands. I fried up the sausages with loads of oil, and instead of doing healthy baked potatoes as I'd been told, I made chips.
When the children saw their plates, their eyes just widened.
As a final touch, I'd smuggled in a bottle of tomato ketchup and a big tub of ice-cream. They couldn't believe their luck!
When she got back, the little one kept trying to tell her about the delicious food they'd all had, but luckily for me she wasn't really listening. From then on I carried on giving them little treats as often as I could, even taking them to McDonald's once. I don't feel in the least bit guilty - and the mother remained none-the-wiser.
Marie, 43, York:
Lazing by the pool in Dubai, cocktail in hand, I didn't feel an ounce of guilt that I'd defiantly put my charges aged three, five and six in the hotel's kids' club while their parents were off gallivanting on a friend's yacht.
The husband was a hot shot in the oil industry and the wife was a stereotypical lady who lunched and divided her time between the gym, beauty salon and local boutiques. During the two years I was employed as live-in nanny at their six-bedroom home near Ascot, they treated me like a servant.
They rarely called me by my name and even docked my pay when I accidentally broke some crockery after slipping on a child's toy.
The only reason I put up with it was because they paid me well and flew me all over the world with them when they went on holiday.
But on that trip to Dubai, when they announced they were going to be partying at sea for 24 hours while I "must do lots of stimulating activities with the children", I gave myself the day off instead.
After leafing through the wife's magazines by the pool all afternoon, I picked the children up from the kids' club in time to feed them and put them to bed.
Then I paid a hotel babysitter to listen out for them for the evening while I went out for dinner with an old friend who lived in Dubai.
They were so disinterested in their children they never even asked what they'd done while they were away.
Olivia, 29, Chesterfield:
I was working for a particularly difficult boss in Manchester. She ran events, and when I came along to big outdoor parties with her two little girls, she'd treat me like a servant, sending me to get her champagne and nibbles.
So I took a certain amount of pleasure in taking the youngest one - who was three - out shopping with me almost every single day. I'd say to her: "Would you like to go out for a hot chocolate?" and she'd nod happily.
So we'd tootle off on the bus and go to all the best boutiques. I'd grab a brownie for her from a cafe and then try on as many clothes as I liked while she played on the changing room floor.
If I met up with friends for a coffee, I'd say to the little girl, "We're going on a playdate!" so she'd tell her Mummy and keep her happy and none-the-wiser that I was being paid to meet friends and go shopping.
Rachel, 26, Worcestershire:
When I started as a nanny for a wealthy family who lived in Surrey, the mother - a high-flying company executive, as was her husband - told me the children, aged nine and 11, must not shower more than once a week.
Showers must always be on a Friday evening, she insisted.
When I asked the kids why they weren't allowed to wash more often, they said their parents told them that washing would rid their skin and hair of all the good oils, and that this was bad for children.
The mother didn't relax the once-a-week rule even during summer, despite both kids being very sporty and therefore sweaty and smelly. Neither were they allowed to wash their faces in the morning.
Although I had to respect the parents' wishes, I would often sneakily make the kids have a couple of extra showers a week. And I'd trick them into thinking that they had food on their faces, then give them a good scrub with a flannel.
Laura, 27, Grimsby:
I worked for a family in Cheshire who were very strict about screen time and didn't think children ought to watch too much telly.
There was no question of iPads, and the four and six-year-old were allowed 15 minutes a day of 'improving' television - educational videos basically.
One day, knowing that the parents were both going to get back late in the evening, I brought in Toy Story and we watched the whole film.
Afterwards, I said to them, knowing that they couldn't tell the time: "There. Now you've watched your 15 minutes. Wasn't that fun!"
Telegraph: Major dry spells are common, but there are ways to get the spark back.