Be da man: find da perfect watermelon

It's only summer when the watermelons hit the shelves.

In da family, da guys - make no mistake, never da dolls - get to choose da great emerald speckled orb.

And so it is that, by the age-old yet never tested method of cradling the melon under one arm and then knocking on the skin with the knuckle of the middle finger while simultaneously cocking one's head to listen contemplatively - and knowingly - to the timbre of the knock, that the manly business begins.

The ceremony ends with a brusque nod of approval following a vigorous scratch of the oval's skin.

The Bandit returns home suffused with the masculine pride of having chosen the very finest watermelon - from among thousands identical in almost every way.

Now, find two of those never-before-used goblets the house guests you thought would never leave gave you last Christmas. Dip their rims into water and then press into a bowl of sea salt.

Peel and chop half an English cucumber into interestingly angled bite-sized chunks (a macedoine, if you insist on being all French about it). Same with a thick slice of watermelon (season generously with freshly ground black pepper).

Cut a roundel of feta into wedges. Finely slice three spring onions and a sprig of celery. Roughly chop a handful of coriander leaves. You also need pitted baby calamata olives.

Artfully arrange all the ingredients in those goblets. Dress with oyster sauce. Maybe chopped chilli. Definitely chopped chilli.