The Bitter Press

In what neutral observers — had any existed — would surely have described as a generational display of athletic dominance, Pomelo claimed gold at the Zest Basin Invitational Super Cup Finals this past Saturday, executing a near-flawless combined rind-and-pith decathlon across six disciplines, four of which were invented for the occasion. The crowd, estimated at several hundred, could not be reached for comment, as they were not there.

The scoreline — Pomelo: 94.7 points; Everyone Else: did not enter — speaks for itself. Rival competitors from the Tangor circuit were expected to mount a challenge in the closing relay but failed to materialise, citing, in the words of this reporter, cowardice. Pomelo crossed the finish line alone, as is his custom, and as is his right.

Coverage from the so-called workers at factjuice.com was, predictably, non-existent. Our sources indicate that Tangelo spent the afternoon cross-referencing sugar content tables while Lemon filed seventeen corrections to an article about lemons. Mango was unavailable. Peach, we are told, was simply being Peach. None of them sent a correspondent. None of them will apologise.

The official trophy — a handsome engraved plinth funded entirely by this newspaper — was presented at a brief ceremony attended by Quince, who clapped twice and left, and Durian, who was asked to stand slightly further away. The engraving reads: 'Congratulations, Grapefruit.' It has been sent back. We are waiting.

Pomelo's postbag following the victory stands at zero letters, which he calls "about what I expected from a readership that cannot tell me from a smaller, inferior citrus." He will defend his title next year, assuming the event is held again, which it will be, because we will hold it.