Scene: a peaceful evening in the respectable suburbs of south Bristol. The Dutch Squeeze is cooking dinner. The Other Gremlin and I are sitting at the table not helping because 1) we are gremlins and 2) he doesn't like to be helped. The Poggle is eating her dinner and we are admiring her.

The doorbell rings. The Dutch Squeeze goes to answer it and returns followed by a young man.

"Am I interrupting?" says the young man nervously. "Are you having a dinner party?"

"No," we say politely. "Do come in."

He sits at the table between the Poggle and me. The Dutch Squeeze carries on cooking.

My prejudiced eye notices the signet ring on his little finger, the slip-on loafers, the chinos, and the jumper. Posh boy.

"My name's Seb...Sebastian," he continues, further confirming my prejudices.

"I'm not selling anything, " he begins. "I want to tell you about this new service we've just set up. For organic meat."

He gets out a heap of leaflets.

"You don't have to buy anything but the prices are much better than the prices in the shops."

"CAKE!" shouts the Poggle at the top of her voice. She likes to take every opportunity to use her vocabulary, which is, as yet, somewhat limited.

"Well," says the Other Gremlin in a kind and reasonable tone, "we do get a veg box and we struggle to get good organic meat. We might be interested."

"There's no obligation," says the posh young man, "and the prices are very good."

"DADDY!" bellows the Poggle. I suspect that she is showing off a bit because we are not looking at her.

The Dutch Squeeze asks the Poggle to be quiet and she beams at him.

"We do ask people to set up a standing order," says the young man, "for at least ten pounds."

"Oh," says the Other Gremlin, "I'm not sure."

The Dutch Squeeze suggests why their business model might cash.

"CAKE!" shouts the Poggle, who would like some cake. I play put-your-finger-on-your-lips, which works for about 3 seconds.

"Well," says the young man nervously, "I'll leave you some leaflets and you can think about it."

"Thank you very much," says the Other Gremlin politely, and the nice young man is ushered to the door by the Dutch Squeeze.

"What did you think of the totty?" he enquires on his return. "You were very nice to him," he adds, sounding slightly disappointed.

We realise the Dutch Squeeze's motives. These seem to be 1) a commendable desire to bring a young handsome man into the house for us to admire 2) the slightly less commendable hope that we might take the piss out of him, like two bad-tempered cats playing with a mouse, which would be entertaining.

We endeavour to explain that we are only cruel to the men we really like but the explanation flounders in the bogs of cultural difference and disappears.