Every year I hear the same thing, and every year I give the same answer: they aren't screaming, it's just escaping air.

But let us not speak of such foolishness any further.

Lobster boiling 101: Lobsters do scream, and loudly. They will thrash like a hooked marlin and drag you in if they can. They are your adversary; your nemesis. How you face the challenge says more about you than your shelled foe.

Ask yourself: whose ancestors crawled from the sea, evolved legs and arms, and developed the pressure cooker? That's right, yours, so put those extra three pounds of evolved grey matter to work.

Mind over matter, my budding lobster cooker; or in this case, mind over claw.

First and foremost, don't tell the lobster that you're boiling water. Put it in the fridge, or better yet, a large, saltwater tank, with proper aeration and large rocks where it can hide and feel secure. Contrary to popular belief, a properly boiled lobster starts as a happy lobster, with toys to play with and wholesome food to eat.

Make it feel comfortable.

Serving a properly chilled martini is preferable, but a tall manhattan will do in a pinch. Consider playing some soft music to help create the stress-free ambience that world-renowned chefs recommend their lobsters experience before the final simmer. Some favour a lobster exposed to Beethoven, while others enjoy the frisky nature of a Dean Martin-inspired crustacean...there are few who will turn down a garlic-seared tail that once moved to the silky tones of That's Amore!

You laugh...perhaps a free-range lobster with open claw and no rubber band was before your time. Maybe you've never gone mano-a-mano with the razor wit of Homarus americanus. Be thankful, sir, and hold fast...the butter is yet drawn.

While your meal enjoys a fine aperitif and perhaps some late afternoon curling on TV, prepare your water, adding generous amounts of salt, and a sprinkle of lemon peel and wild flowers (this will do nothing for the taste but will trick your lobster into thinking you've prepared a scented steam bath for its evening's relaxation). Be sure to place some oils and body wash beside the pot; a small but important touch, as many a special dinner has been ruined in those last moments by a lobster becoming wise to the ruse you have constructed.

Now sated and, with luck, slightly inebriated, your lobster is almost ready, but a few critical steps remain. First, you must remove the lobster from the comfortable lodgings you have prepared for it. This is more difficult than it might seem, as any maître d' or barroom bouncer will attest.

Put simply, your lobster will not want to leave, which can be easily understood by imagining yourself in its position. Would you like to be picked up by the haunches midway through a double Gibson with olives and dragged off to the steam room? Of course not, and neither will your lobster. This is a time for sensitivity and tact. Smile frequently, apologize for the inconvenience, and if all else fails, pull the fire alarm and urge your lobster towards the nearest (wink wink) fire exit.

Sadly, people take it for granted that they can smoothly pick up a lobster and transfer it to the pot with ease, only to find they have a handful of legs and antennae right out of Alien, triggering instant stage fright on the part of the chef, and a five-foot plunge to the floor on the part of the lobster, which, at more than ten dollars per pound (not including liquor and canapés), is a frightful waste of seafood.

As the saying goes, practice makes perfect, and that is as true with lobster boiling as it is with mud wrestling, and in the end, twice as dangerous. So start with a plastic lobster, learning the proper position for grasping the waist, and then move on to something small and manageable. I recommend tiger shrimp; small but frisky, these little creatures will provide a good first test of your skill, with minimal injury. Boil up at least a hundred or so before moving on to the real thing.

Once your lobster is ready to go, it's time for the big moment. Pick up your lobster. Avoid eye contact, which only emboldens the brazen beasts. Show it the bath scents you have on hand, letting it humour itself while you swiftly lift the lid to your pot. You only have a few seconds here, so use them carefully. Place the lobster smoothly and swiftly into the boiling water and drop the lid. Ignore the screams and commotion you hear; perhaps hum a tune.

Boil for fifteen minutes, and with luck it'll be dead and ready to serve, though experienced lobster eaters know better. Keep a hammer handy...just in case.