"How many do you want?" Mr Overalls replies. About 100. His face takes on a guarded look. I become momentarily hopeful that I have stumbled across a gatekeeper to the hamster-trading netherworld, but instead of inviting me into the pet house for further discussion and the exchange of untraceable small bills, he asks what I want them for.

"There's a business opportunity I saw in the paper today," I say. "I thought I'd get a piece of this action." He looks at me. This is not a bonding moment. Figuring I have nothing to lose, I show him the article. It negates the need for further explanation. "We would only sell them as pets," he says sternly. "We're fully accredited by the Pet Trust, and so will anyone else be if you try them."