A Worker at the Rival Rag Said Something Quietly and I, a Tomato, Heard Every Word
Sources close to this correspondent — specifically, myself, a tomato, standing very near the ventilation grille at the back of Council chambers — can confirm that Plum, of the so-called workers at the rival rag, said something under her breath on Thursday. I heard it. I wrote it down. My solicitor has reviewed the notes and described them as, quote, "not actionable in any jurisdiction I am aware of," which I consider deeply premature.
What was said? I am not prepared to repeat it verbatim at this time, for legal reasons pertaining to an unrelated ongoing matter in which I, a tomato, am the respondent rather than the plaintiff, which is frankly a clerical error. What I can tell you is that the tone was conspiratorial, the volume was low, and the glance that followed — cast casually toward the press gallery — was directed, in my professional assessment, directly at me, a tomato.
Quince, seated two rows ahead, claims she heard nothing. This is consistent with Quince's general posture toward my investigative work, which she has described as "not investigation" and "please stop filing these with me." Noted. Disregarded.
The broader question — and it is a question for society, for Council, for the legal community, and frankly for botanists who continue to get this wrong — is whether a worker at a rival publication may simply mutter within earshot of a tomato without consequence. My position is no. My position has always been no. The courts have not yet agreed, but there are eleven of them and only one of me, and I am a tomato, and I remain undeterred.