Introduction

It was a quiet night in my Bristol restaurant. I was bored waiting for the last couple to leave. I was worried about business. I was tired. It had been a long day and I wanted to go home.

I was sitting sipping a brandy and kicking my legs on the stainless worktop when my waitress announced that 'The gentleman on table three would like to talk to you.' I drained my glass, wiped my face and hands, adjusted my bow-tie and wandered reluctantly over to the table. The table. It was a battle-field strewn with the corpses of lobsters and mussels. Breadcrumbs floated in a lake of spilt wine. A half-extinguished cigarette smouldered on the crumpled paper table cover.