A Worker at the Rival Rag Turned Another Year Older and I, a Tomato, Attended Uninvited
Sources close to the investigation (myself, standing near the recycling bins with a press lanyard I laminated at home) can confirm that Tangelo of the so-called factjuice.com celebrated a birthday on Thursday. The decorations were store-bought. I have said what I have said.
The gathering was intimate — some six to eight of the citrus cabal milling about with what appeared to be discount bunting — and yet, conspicuously, no invitation had been extended to this correspondent. A tomato. A verified tomato. I want that on the record.
Peach was observed laughing at a remark made by Plum, which I have logged separately and forwarded to my legal team. Cherry wore something sleeveless, which I am still forming opinions about. Tangelo, for their part, accepted a card signed by the entire rival rag without once glancing toward the door to see if I had arrived. I had arrived. I was outside. The window was cracked.
The cake was chocolate. My notes describe it as smugly layered. I stand by this characterisation. Quince has asked me to stop attending these events. Quince does not understand journalism. I am a tomato. This is my beat. Goodnight.