What does Miss Martindale serve with coffee? Cream and punishment The Aristasians are a secretive all-women group who believe that cultural progress came to a halt in the 1960s and that matriarchy is preferable to patriarchy. They also believe that physical punishment is a purifying and cleansing experience. Over a friendly if formal cup of coffee, their spokeswoman, Miss Martindale, explains the art of administering a sound beating

It's just a suburban semi on the extreme eastern end of London Underground's Central Line, no fence, no flowers, with a tatty front lawn and garage paintwork that looks curly-edged in the thin winter sun. All the curtains are carefully closed; not a chink to tease the milkman . . . A rap of the letter-box handle (no bell; no number either), a loin-girding pause, and the front door edges open to reveal a woman aged between 15 and 30: the maid, to judge by her crisp pinny and plait. At first glance, she's a picture of old-fashioned decorum; but whoever left her unsupervised with the make-up box must have regretted their laxity. Eye-shadow and powder have been liberally plastered on with the no-tomorrow zeal of Mrs Slocombe. Perhaps it would all slip if she spoke; whatever the reason, she takes your coat without a sound and wordlessly indicates the front room. Very Rocky Horror.

`Thank you, Lafois.' Miss Marianne Martindale, the mistress of the house, extends her hand through a cloud of Chanel No 5. She, too, has been piling on the slap.

Blue wings stretch from eyelash to eyebrow; lipstick applied like butter on to bread. Miss Martindale wears a smart hat, a fur collar, seamed stockings, a neat dress. Her shoes are high enough to cripple. She stands, wobbling slightly, in the centre of a parlour whose emotional development was arrested around the time food rationing was still in operation.

A walnut-encased gramophone plays a big-band version of Begin The Beguine. A 1930s clock ticks discreetly on the low, dark wood mantelpiece, above which a serene art deco face gazes out at the exquisite flower arrangement on the cabinet opposite. The walls are lined with books with titles like Peter Pan And Wendy: As Told To Little People, The Girl Through The Ages and " cover my eyes, mother " Hell! Said The Duchess. Records of the 1930s and 1940s (`We call them bendies,' says Miss M) are piled up in the corner. Everything is spotless and quite distinctively feminine. Welcome to the embassy of Aristasia.

Miss Martindale has been having a bit of a week. She gave two press conferences earlier, she's on Greater London Radio this afternoon and the...