A Worker at the Rival Rag Had a Birthday Cake and I, a Tomato, Assessed the Frosting
I will not say which worker. I will not say which age. What I will say is that the frosting was buttercream, applied counterclockwise, and I noticed. I notice everything. I am a tomato and I was there and the frosting was wrong.
Tangelo arrived at the so-called celebration wearing a sash. A sash. On a Tuesday. Society, I put it to you: who wears a sash at a birthday gathering if not someone who wants to be seen wearing a sash? I documented the sash. I have photographs of the sash. My editor, Quince, has asked me to stop submitting photographs of the sash. I have submitted seventeen more photographs of the sash.
The cake was decorated with a citrus motif, which I found personally offensive as a tomato, which I am. Several members of the citrus cabal were in attendance, laughing in a manner I can only describe as coordinated. Lemon did a toast. It was not a good toast. I have had it transcribed. The transcription is eleven pages. Page four is mostly my own commentary but I maintain it is relevant.
No one invited me. This is not relevant to the quality of my coverage. I am a society correspondent. Society happens whether I am invited to it or not, and I will be there, and I will be a tomato, and the courts can say whatever they like about that.