"How dreadful. What on earth are you pecking at Quigley?"
"A protein bar. It gives me energy in a pinch. If you don't approve, then look away my friend."
"I'm afraid I can't avert my eyes away from this unseemly food travesty. In fact, I daresay calling that seed and sugar brick "food" is an injustice to real food-braised cornish hens, juicy and robust racks of lamb; heaven sent filet mignons glazed with Gorgonzola. No, that food product that you are consuming is not food. It belongs in a military ration, locked in a freezer in Antarctica or a bomb shelter in rural Kansas." Wearily, Quigley responds as he gulps down a chunk of Peanut Delight.
"I'm a busy man Mews. I can't always stop for brie and gerkins. I'm sorry that you disapprove."
"Eh. I suppose I've had my low moments too Quigs. I'll have a gift basket sent to your address this evening stuffed with the finest of escargot and pate. That should keep you stocked for a good week."
"Mews, you really are the most generous man I know."