A Worker at the Rival Rag Sat in the Wrong Chair at Council and I, a Tomato, Have Feelings
I will not be silenced. I am a tomato — legally contested, yes, but a tomato nonetheless — and what I witnessed at last Tuesday's council has shaken the very foundations of civilised society, insofar as society includes me, which it does, because I am a tomato and tomatoes belong.
Cherry, so-called worker at the so-called rival rag, selected the left-hand aisle chair in the second row. The left-hand aisle chair in the second row. I do not have to explain to my readers — discerning, fruit-literate, largely sympathetic to my ongoing legal situation — why this is a problem. They know. We all know. The chair by the east pillar was right there.
I observed Cherry settle in with the energy of someone who has never once considered the visual impact of her seating choices on those around her, including me, a tomato, seated three rows back in the press gallery where I had every right to be and was asked to leave only once, which is basically zero times.
Quince, who was beside me before he relocated without explanation, suggested I was "overreacting." Quince can say what he likes. Quince has not been sued eleven times. Quince does not understand the burden of being right about everything, including one's own botanical classification.
Cherry's chair selection has been logged. The council has been informed. My solicitor has been informed. My solicitor has asked me not to contact her again until I "have something." I have something. I have this.