Rich and slender American men

Well, the public face of the farm is ready. Cleaned and polished to the edge of sterility. Not even seriously deep sniffs would uncover even a faint suggestion of the fishy odours expected in this kind of setting.

The fish swim silently and are splendid in their grey silver-ishness, comfortably visible through the large glass window of the "viewing room"which sits a metre or so above the pools.

Here, small groups of rich and slender potential American investors sit in air-conditioned comfort sipping just-cooled lemon flavoured mineral water from non-disposable cups. Between delicate sips and polite nods in acknowledgement to the "persuader" who sits across the giant conference table, their curious eyes are drawn to the silent aquatic parade beyond the glass.

The first to emerge from the "selling room" to the stifling humidity of the fish-keeping area releases a fold of shirtsleeve as he extends his smooth slender hand towards mine. He addresses me as "madam". Madam ? Distinctly not a born-n-bred American voice. Probably one of those prosperous new-wave immigrants to the US whose origins could be one of the states of the former Soviet Union. But he tall enough that I need to look up to meet his gaze .

Someone meticulously ironed his upmarket beige cargo pants . I remember noticing a deep blue BMW in the newly-concreted car park. Perhaps the BMW company designs its' car seats so that ironed clothing retains its creases.

As an increasingly visible set of sweat begins to bead over his unlined forehead, I swing into an animated response to a question about the causes of fish stress, drawing on lessons learned in a $150 weekend drama workshop attended in the distant past.

To wit-vary the pitch of your voice to maintain attention, smile and make eye contact when you want your remark to penetrate and be retained.

Flirt delicately to sell fish. Easy when you are addressed as "madam"..