'They piss you off,' I said, trying to picture the thirty-odd people who lived out there. 'They do their fair bit to piss you all off.'

'You're right about that,' said the landlord. He came to the table and sat down, setting the crisps in front of him. 'Do their fair bit to piss us all off. They're not well liked — not since they fenced off that nice bit o' beach on the south-east of the island and stopped the young folk from Arduaine going out with their boats. They'd only be wanting a wee game of footy or shinty in the sand, the weans, Godsake, no need to be so stern about it, is my opinion.'

'Not your perfect neighbours.'

'No,' he said. 'They're not.'

'Where I come from, you behave like that you're asking for a hiding.'

'So you're starting to see my point.'

'If it was me I'd be trying to think of how to make their lives difficult.'

'We've been tempted!' The landlord laughed. He licked his fingers carefully, then put them to his eyes, like tears of mirth had gathered there. 'I don't mind telling you. Been tempted. Put some paraffin in their bottles of bevvy, maybe.'

'You know, if it was me, I'd — I'd — I don't know.' I shook my head and looked at the ceiling, like I was searching for inspiration. 'I'd probably try and set up some kind of… dodgy rumour. Yeah.' I nodded. 'I'd set up a hoax — spread a couple of rumours around.'

The landlord stopped laughing and rubbed his nose. 'Are you saying we're making it all up?'

'Aye. Takin' the piss, are ye?' The lobsterman sat forward, suddenly flushed. 'You takin' the piss? Is that what your message to us is?'