The waiter and I share a glance. There is a very good chance I could come to love this man.

'The chef will want to know what's wrong with it,' he says, and I look at my wife and nod, and remember that in some cultures it's rude to leave things on your plate.

She starts to pick up her fork, and I realise, I could do this. I could force my wife to eat that prawn! Force her to abandon whatever magazine-madness is stopping her!

And as her fork gets closer to that prawn, I catch a look of defeat in her eyes, and it's enough to break my heart, and so I say, 'Actually, it was a wonderful meal, but we're both just really full up.'

The waiter says 'as you wish', and picks up the plates, and I resist the urge to mention the toast-mouse.

'I suppose we are just from different cultures, you and I,' I say, wisely. 'But we will make this work.'

We order dessert.

THE GIFT

I am with my friend Steve in a local cafe when he says, 'Keep it a secret but I've got Colin this wicked gift.'

'What is it?'

He tells me. It's a fancy cardigan we'd all seen in a style magazine. Colin had been particularly taken with it. He said it'd make him look like Hugh Jackman, which it would, unless you were looking at his face or body.

'That's a wicked gift!' I say, amazed. 'But expensive!'

'Our birthdays are coming up soon. He'll love it. Don't tell him, though.'

I shake my head and frown and say I won't. I am pleased to have been given such privileged information. I must be a very good person, to be trusted with information like this, I think.

A month later, Colin and I are at the pub. He is about to get up and leave. He's meeting Steve in an hour, for a joint birthday curry. But he appears to be going empty-handed. I panic. Tonight's the night Steve's going to give him his present!

'Colin, you can't go empty-handed,' I say.

'What?'

'You can't go empty-handed. Steve's ... got you a gift.'

'Steve's got me a gift?' says Colin. 'What sort of gift?'

'An expensive gift.'

I let the words hang in the air, and nod my head with great solemnity. It is clear no other details are necessary.

'How expensive? What is it?' asks Colin, who thinks they are.

'It's just expensive,' I say. 'All you need to know is it's expensive. And wicked.'

Colin considers my words and comes to the correct conclusion.

'I'd better get him something,' he says. 'A DVD?'

'More expensive.'

'Two DVDs?'