The Bitter Press

Let us begin with what should not require saying, and yet — given the photographic evidence submitted by this column's correspondents — clearly does: you are representing your peel. When you enter a serious deliberative body, a tribunal, a council, a working subcommittee of any standing whatsoever, you are not entering a farmers' market. You are not a sample. Conduct yourself accordingly.

The first rule is silhouette. A fruit attending formal proceedings must present a silhouette that communicates intention. This is not about size. Pomelo has size. We have had conversations about what Pomelo does with that size, and those conversations are ongoing. This is about composure. Does your exterior communicate that you have read the agenda? It should. It must. Anything less is an apology for existing in the room, and we do not apologize in this column.

The second rule is surface. One does not arrive before a deliberative body glistening. One does not arrive matte to the point of existential dryness — yes, Fig, this notation is for you specifically, and the stenographer has been asked to read it aloud. There is a register between these two disasters. It is called appropriate. Locate it before the session opens or do not locate a seat.

The third and final rule, which the so-called workers at the rival rag have violated collectively and without remorse: one does not attend in a state of visual ambiguity. Tangelo arrived at last season's open forum looking like a question someone had started and abandoned. Kiwi's presentation suggested a fruit that had received the meeting invitation accidentally and had decided, heroically, to attend anyway. These are not style choices. They are confessions.

This column does not ask for perfection. It asks for the absolute minimum, which is effort legible from the gallery. The chamber deserves it. The record deserves it. And frankly, so does Quince, who is watching from the gallery, taking notes in a hand that does not tremble.