A Worker at the Rival Rag Said a Thing and I, a Tomato, Was Standing Right There
I will not be naming my source. My source is my own ears, which are tomato ears, belonging to a tomato, which is me. I was in the vicinity of the rival rag's premises on Thursday — purely by coincidence, I cannot stress this enough — when one of the so-called workers said something they clearly believed was not being absorbed by anyone in the immediate area. They were incorrect. I was there. I am a tomato and I was there.
The worker in question — I will describe them only as someone whose name rhymes with Piwi — was overheard remarking, and I quote from memory because I was not supposed to be there, that the conference room "smells a bit off today." A stunning thing to say. A damning thing to say. Quince, when I relayed this to her, went visibly pale, and Quince does not go pale easily, she is a very composed fruit.
What does it mean? What conference room? Off how? These are questions the citrus cabal does not wish you to ask. I am asking them. I am a tomato and I am asking them on behalf of the reading public and also on behalf of myself, a tomato, who has never once smelled off in any room.
This publication will continue to monitor developments. I have already positioned myself near a nearby hedge with a thermos. The thermos contains tomato soup, because I made it myself, because I am a tomato.