writing – Page 3 – Robert Garnham

The Neon Yak – First Chapter

Hello,

Here’s the first chapter of my novel, The Neon Yak

You can order the book here https://www.lulu.com/shop/robert-garnham/the-neon-yak/paperback/product-jewwrd5.html?q=The+neon+yak&page=1&pageSize=4

I first started writing The Neon Yak about three years ago. I was going through some old poems that I had written while staying with my Grandmother in Surrey, she lived in an old two up two down cottage in the woods and there were glimpses of London in the distance, and I realised what a magic place it all was. And then I started to think about all of the emotions a teenager has at the time, and the events which occur which, looking back, seem magical in themselves. Add to these the usual teenage longings, and the inner struggle of accepting my own homosexuality, and the story just seemed to seep into my consciousness.

The Neon Yak is heavily autobiographical, but not totally. Some of the things which happen in the novel actually did happen to me. In fact, I would say that about three quarters of the ‘supernatural’ events in the novel happened. I’m not sure whether they took place in that strange realm of half dream, half awake, or in actuality, but they felt real and they still feel real now.

And what of The Neon Yak itself? This entity is something I created for my 2017 Edinburgh show, In the Glare of the Neon Yak, but it is based on the local legends and folklore which were prevalent in the area where I grew up of Herne the Hunter. If you’ve never heard of Herne, then a Google search will prove enlightening, though there are theories that he was invented by William Shakespeare for The Merry Wives of Windsor. Whatever the origins, Herne the Hunter seemed real for us kids growing up, and any visit to the woods always carried the risk of being confronted by The Hunter.

The novel takes place during the summer between middle school and secondary school, which is always a strange time when you are growing up. For me it was especially auspicious, because it meant commuting to a busy town in the suburbs of west London instead of staying in our cosy little Surrey village surrounded by woods. The secondary school felt like another world and of course, along with it came a growing sense of my own sexuality, and my own denial of that. The events which are laid out during that summer, in actuality, probably occurred over the space of a few years. If you ask me nicely one day, I might tell you which are real and which are works of imagination.

I wrote the first draft of the novel over a frenetic month in 2023, and then spent the next year refining it and editing. I am hugely grateful to Stoat Books for publishing it.

You can order a copy here https://www.lulu.com/shop/robert-garnham/the-neon-yak/paperback/product-2m4jj2e.html?q=The+Neon+Yak&page=1&pageSize=4&fbclid=IwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAR24JqIowDGJ-t10StfCY8FSIrOKB3Pn7k9momkiK_AYBZBVfAwUS8Icivk_aem_aXHTimgkDLXM2AXc8pzPCA

The Neon Yak

My novel The Neon Yak is published today by Stoat Books. A tale of growing up, coming of age, magic, folklore, the dark woods of Surrey, and a drag queen called Tina Afterburner.

“Have you ever felt like a stranger in your own life? The Neon Yak is a beautifully written and deeply introspective novel that explores the challenges of growing up different. Set in the heart of 1980s suburbia, it follows Daniel Cooper, a boy caught between his true self and the expectations imposed upon him. As he navigates school bullies, family tensions, and the constant backdrop of motorways and distant city lights, Daniel finds refuge in books, music, and his vivid imagination. Amidst his struggle with societal norms and self-discovery, a voice from within—embodied by the captivating and enigmatic Tina—urges him to embrace his authentic identity.”

Here’s an excerpt from the novel, a short chapter entitled ‘One Day I Levitated’.

You can order the book at the moment from Stoat Books’ Lulu site right here: https://www.lulu.com/shop/robert-garnham/the-neon-yak/paperback/product-2m4jj2e.html?q=The+Neon+Yak&page=1&pageSize=4&fbclid=IwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAR24JqIowDGJ-t10StfCY8FSIrOKB3Pn7k9momkiK_AYBZBVfAwUS8Icivk_aem_aXHTimgkDLXM2AXc8pzPCA

Synopsis of a Novel I Wrote When I Was 24

I spent my teenage years writing comedy short stories. Eventually I would join a writers’ circle and read these out, but that’s as far as they ever got. Around the year 1999 I decided I wanted to become a serious writer, and got into some very pretentious high literature, such as James Joyce, or Juan Goytisolo, and I dreamed of literary stardom and making a difference. I conceived of a book which would be so special that it wouldn’t even have a name, that’s how pretentious I was back then. At the time, I was young, enthusiastic, newly out, with my first partner and my first flat. My hobby was travelling all over the world, and I really thought I was going to be the most famous writer who ever lived. Ha!

I wrote the book between 2000 and 2004 and then promptly never looked at it again. I never sent it anywhere, and I never let anyone read it. The only thing I did with it was to take the entire second part and make it into a play, ‘Fuselage’, which actually won a theatre writing competition and was performed / rehearse read over two nights by a professional company at the Northcott Theatre in Exeter. That was in 2008. And I hadn’t looked at it since.

Until the other day, when I found the damn thing on a memory stick. It was saved in twelve different parts, so I’ve just spent all of today gluing them together as a word document, (I didn’t use word back then), and the book is now complete for the first time. I’ve decided to give it a title, too – ‘Orbs’, after one of the main characters.

Anyway, I’m not going to do anything else with it. But I thought you might get a kick out of reading the synopsis so that you can see just what a car crash the thing was. It was written in Devon, Copenhagen, Toronto and New York, which is probably the only notable thing about it!

Orbs

Robert Garnham

Part One

Chapter One : Cassandra meets Lucas on a train. She is, apparently, recently bereaved of her boyfriend Aaron. The chapter is narrated by Mister Collins – apparently an ex-lover of Cassandra’s. On the train, the conversation between her and Lucas is overheard by Orbs who announces that Lucas can, if he wants, bring Aaron back to life through literature. Of a sudden the train grinds to a halt.

Chapter Two : Lucas insists on leaving the stranded train. They walk through the woods to a mansion house where they are expected by Mrs Ohspander. Cassandra is insistent that Lucas write Aaron into existence for her. They stay the night. Over dinner Lucas decides not to do as he is asked. Orbs arrives and takes Cassandra out to a chapel in the grounds of the house dedicated to the life of Aaron. Orbs explains that Aaron – (despite being dead) – is the narrator of the chapter.

Chapter Three : Cassandra is distraught. She wanders in the forest and returns to the house. She cannot find her way in. Instead, she spends the night in a heated greenhouse. Lucas arrives and they make love. They discuss the re-invention of Aaron and Lucas declares to her his love. Cassandra drowns Lucas into the pond and returns to the house. In the library she meets Orbs who says that Mr Collins has been watching her. Orbs hints that Cassandra is, in fact, dead, and that it is Mr Collins who has invented her for a character in a book. Aaron is very much alive.

Part Two

Chapter One : Lucas and Jakub have crashed in the desert. Jakub is injured, Lucas cares for him, and a bond of love develops which Jakub does not reciprocate. One day Orbs arrives and cures Jakub’s injured leg, finds them food and water and solves many of their problems. Lucas is convinced that Orbs is an evil spirit intent on separating them. When no-one is looking, Lucas sabotages the radio equipment.

Chapter Two : Orbs organises the makeshift camp and ensures that food and water are available, and Jakub’s leg begins to heal. Lucas is afraid that this will result in the end of his association with the older man. He remembers the cacophony of their crash-landing. A sandstorm blows in and, unnoticed by Jakub, Lucas murders Orbs.

Chapter Three : Jakub questions Orbs’ disappearance, Lucas finally admits to killing him. He walks off into the desert and is rescued, eventually, by Grainer and Shelley, who come back for Jakub and drive them to the nearest city. Grainer asks where Orbs is but Lucas remains silent. Jakub then admits to having crashed the plane on purpose.

Part Three

Chapter One : Rozetta is a curator at a museum of writers in Paris. Meek, ineffectual, she wishes she were more like Jakub, an adventurer who always gets what he wants. They are sent to the mountains in order to secure precious artefacts pertaining to the poet Michael Afff, but there is something about the small kingdom which they both find intimidating. Rozetta rests in her hotel room and hears footsteps approach, menacingly, on the veranda.

(The paragraphs of this chapter have been numbered and mixed up. The reader must choose from three possible combinations in order to read them. Only one is correct. Superfluous, ‘rogue’ paragraphs have also been inserted.)

Chapter Two : Back in the city, Rozetta feels herself changing into a confidant, brash young woman. Jakub, meanwhile, loses all his confidence. Rozetta also feels herself inundated with words and poems. A representative of the mountain kingdom, Orbs, reveals that, in an attempt to bring back Michael Afff, his DNA has been injected into them both. However, a mix-up has resulted in Rozetta being infected with Jakub’s DNA, and vice versa.

(This chapter has footnotes which explain Orbs’ motivations. The footnotes also have footnotes, which spell out a short poem. This, too, has footnotes.)

Chapter Three : (Takes place after Chapter One). In the mountain kingdom, Rozetta walks around, dazed. At the cathedral she watches the High Priest of a cult based on the work of Afff – Orbs himself. Jakub meets Orbs in the park – he explains that this was the only way to bring Afff back. It is hinted, though, that rather than being a mix-up, Rozetta actually is infected with Afff’s DNA, and the poet is taking over.

(This chapter is written entirely back to front. The reader must determine this for themselves. Also, a new mark of punctuation is used, the explanation of which is also contained within the narrative.)

Part Four

Chapter One : Deni is trapped inside a poem in ancient Greece. Rozetta is coming to his rescue armed with a copy of Micheal Afff’s poetry and a river-boat, deep in the jungles of the Amazon. The expedition comes across a statue deep in the foliage of Rozetta herself. Orbs appears in the poem and offers advice to Deni, and then he appears on the river boat as an interested observer. It is hinted, however, that it is Rozetta who is trapped in a poem and that Deni is the author.

Chapter Two : Deni, as the author of Rozetta’s adventure, is himself trapped in a cage in Vienna during a masked ball. Orbs visits him and implores him not to tamper with the narrative, it is having a negative effect on Rozetta’s existence. Meanwhile, in the jungle, Rozetta and Orbs investigate a mysterious abandoned city. Back on the river, their boat is attacked by natives and it sinks below the water.

Chapter Three : Deni is in a cabin of an ocean-going container vessel, he is also an amateur artist. Rozetta and Orbs are travelling through the jungle on an overnight train. In the restaurant car Orbs plays piano jazz, romance is a possibility. The container vessel picks up a man floating in the sea in a life-raft, it is Orbs. On the train in the jungle the brakes are applied – Orbs and Rozetta investigate and discover a container vessel, lifted out of the water and placed one hundred miles from the sea in front of them.

Part Five

Chapter One : Deni and Robert are lovers, living in a caravan at a seaside town. They are conducting a theatrical experiment in which members of the public, unwittingly, are participants in a secret play. Deni’s ex-lover, Orbs, arrives, and they reminisce – Robert feels jealous. After a night of partying in which Orbs’ intentions are frustrated, they wake to find the caravan – and themselves – hundreds of miles away.

Chapter Two : Deni and Robert have been transported to a sand dune and a wide beach, a desolate landscape. Deni bemoans the loss of his desk and his project. Orbs helps reconvene the project in their new location. Robert sees Eeon, a deck-hand on a pleasure boat. Wandering in the sand dunes, he discovers Deni’s desk. Later, on the same pleasure boat, Robert tells Deni that he has seen the desk and Deni reacts angrily, forces the boat back and runs off into the dunes, never to be seen again.

Chapter Three : Robert, Eeon and Orbs are staying at a lighthouse. Robert continues Deni’s project. Eeon picks up foreign stations on his radio, incomprehensible speeches. Robert falls in love with Eeon. Orbs is worried about his place in the universe and his ever-decreasing sense of youth. During a thunderstorm Eeon and Robert listen to the radio – the speaker hints at religious and cultural conflict. Eeon feels lost and uneasy. The foreign speaker then starts mentioning aspects of their private lives, their deepest fears. Running to tell Orbs of this, they discover that it is he who is the speaker.

Part Six

Chapter One : Ostensibly a meditation on my own childhood, the autobiographical sections give way to a narrative based on the imaginings of Eeon’s own childhood in tandem with my own. A kindly relative, Orbs, has spotted the doubt in myself and proclaims to know of a solution – that life should just be lived.

Chapter Two : A comedy tracing the career of Cassandra, a modern artist working in New York, and Robert, a poet, each of whom has run out of inspiration. To advance Cassandra’s career, Robert spends a night in her studio and concocts works of art on her behalf, aided by the janitor, Orbs. On realising the futility of art in life, Robert decides to kill himself by jumping off a crane into the river, but Orbs saves him. Arcs is revealed to be a manifestation of Orbs’ imagination. Examples of Arcs’ work as an artist are placed within the chapter as visual representations.

Chapter Three : Robert is a poet in New York, seemingly without friends or success. His sister, Cassandra, is the subject of a retrospective at the modern art facility. Robert feels left out. At the launch party, he feels distinctly out of sorts, until he sees Cassandra slumped in the corner, depressed by fame. The next day he goes back to the gallery with the help of the janitor, Orbs, and he replaces the works of art in Cassandra’s exhibition with posters of his own poetry. Lost in the gallery, he meets Stefan and they fall in love. Robert becomes successful and he and Stefan host a magnificent party.

The Kaweco Sport brass cartridge pen – a review

I’ve always loved using ink cartridge pens. Indeed, I’ve been using the same Parker pen since 1995. Yes, you read that right. The same Parker Vector stainless steel pen, which I’ve written with almost every day on poems, short stories, you name it. However lately I’ve been branching out and trying other pens, such as a Lamy, a Waterman pen, and recently, a Pilot pen. They’re all very good, though bizarrely the best pen, and certainly the most robust, has been the Jinhao Chinese pen with its chunky design and its metal shaft.

But the pen I’d always wanted was a Kaweco Sport, in particular, the grass version. It looked beautiful and there are plenty of videos on YouTube of people eulogising their Kaweco brass pens and saying how beautiful they looked. So last week I ordered one, paying much more than I normally would have done just for a pen.

And yes, it’s a thing of beauty. It arrives in a tin which reminds me of a sweet tin, or a tobacco tin. And when you first get your hands on them, they’re brassy and shiny and new looking. However within a few days of using them they become wonderfully tarnished and start to look both personal and antique, staining on the parts of the shaft where your fingers go most often.

How does it write? Well, this is where I made a slight error and accidentally ordered the extra wide nib version. It worked perfectly, but as a writer, the thick nib spread the ink too widely for my liking. So I paid ten pounds extra and ordered a medium nib. It was very easy to swap over as the metal casing allows the plastic nib to unscrew easily. And now it writes very well indeed.

The pen is short so that it fits easily into a pocket. You can buy an extra clip to attach it to one’s pocket, which I’ve done, though I admit that I rather like the aesthetic purity of the pen without the clip. It feels excellent to hold and to write with, and I’ve had no problems with ink flow.

So in short, it’s a remarkable pen, sturdy and good to look at!

Smurftown

Here’s a new poem for you. It’s only eight lines long, and it’s about identity, I suppose.

Casserole

1.

You know what it's like.
It's just gone three in the afternoon
And you get a sudden pang
For casserole.
Not quite as full on as a stew,
Not quite as funky as a hot pot,
Not quite as opaque as soup
Nor even a broth with its
Meaty meaty chunks,
Casserole, winter warmer,
Dumpling soaker,
Casserole casserole casserole,
Mmm mmm mmm!

Traipsing round the supermarket aisle
Where is the casserole? This'll take a while 
I tell you what will a-make a-me smile 
A glimpse of casserole, I would run a mile
Like a character from mythology, a personal trial
Casserole casserole casserole,
Mmm mmm mmm!

Excuse me mister manager
Supermarket manager
Where is the casserole,
Don't hold it back!
Excuse me mister manager
Supermarket manager
Where is the casserole,
It's something that you lack!

Casserole casserole casserole,
Mmm mmm mmm!

And the supermarket manager said

2.

I am the very model of a supermarket manager
We have so many bargains here we'd see off any challenger
We sell our food in tins and packs and sometimes in a canister
And if somebody makes a mess I have to call the janitor.
I am so damn professional I'm nothing like an amateur
Our shelves are always fully stocked, our sugar it is granular
I make a daily sales forecast with several parameters
We have a fine display in here of spoons and forks and spatulas
Our singles night is Wednesday the place is full of bachelors
I am the very model
Yes I am the very model
Yes I am the very model
Of a supermarket manager!

(He is the very model of a supermarket manager!)

I have so many colleagues here and staff and several underlings
I go straight home it's getting late I strip down to my underthings 
I'm not about to come on to you if that is what you're wondering
Cos I'm a decent sort of chap though often prone to blundering
The music that I hear at night is shopping trolleys trundling
It fills me with a strange delight I cannot stop from shuddering
A queue of shoppers in a row, the slowest till is the one working
Our motto is Grab What You Can, a philosophy which underpins
Our shareholders and chief exec, our profits they are funnelling
I am the very model
Yes I am the very model
Yes I am the very model
Of a supermarket manager!

(He is the very model of a supermarket manager!)

But I don't know if we've got
Casss-errrrrrr-roooolllllle!

I'll ask Janet.

Oh, Janet?

3.

What?

You got any of the good stuff, Janet?

And iiiiiii-eeeeeee-iiiiiiiiii-eeeeeee-iiiiii,
Will always loooovee
Souuuuuuuuuupppppp.

No Janet, the other thing?

Oh yes.

(To the tune of Alejandro, by Lady Gaga)

I've looked everywhere
In the stock room
But I haven't got a pack n't got a pack.
In the freezer
In the stock room
Not even in the chiller on the shelf.

You know that I love casserole,
Hot like stew or a sausage roll
At this point I do suggest
Pot Noodle

Don't look like we 
Have got any
Casserole -ole,
I'm not your babe
With casserole
Haven't got none,
Not in a pack 
Nor in a box
Just a small back
We haven't got
We haven't got
Any cass'role.

Any cass'role
Any cass'role
Cassy cassy cass'role
Cassy cassy cass'role

Any cass'role
Any cass'role
Cassy cassy cass'role
Cassy cassy cass'role

Stop, please!
Just let me go!

I've got a spillage in aisle six.

4.

Tell me young man,
Why do you like casserole so much?

I live a life devoted to it
And it often gets me grumpy
That a common misconception is
That it's cold and ever so lumpy.

A casserole is different
And lifts me high anew
It fills me with a warmth inside
That you don't really get with stew.

And stroganoff can bugger off
Please take away that bowl
And if you really love me true
Just give me casserole.

I spent a night of bliss with Trish
So sexual so winsome so fetching
She gave me a plate of beef bourgignon
I spent the whole night retching.

Casserole casserole casserole
Just the sound of it makes me tingle.
Casserole casserole casserole.
It's probably why I'm still single.

5.

I'm sorry I can't help you
With that food that you do seek
The only thing that I suggest
Is to come back next week.

Our casserole it takes its toll
And I really don't want to harm ya
Perhaps young man I could tempt you
With a chiller fridge lasagne?

6.

Dinner.
I want for dinner
A dish that I can have with wine
It's the one thing on my mind.
Hunger.
Increasing hunger.
An empty stomach makes a growling sound
It's enough to bring me down.

This supermarket hasn't got any casserole.
And now I will take my leave!

Came in
Around 3.30
Thought it would only take a smidge
Headed to the chiller fridge
Empty
It was so empty
A gap where obviously it should have been
Everyone could hear me scream.

This supermarket hasn't got any casserole.
And now I will take my leave!

Stocktake,
The latest stocktake
It says you had some yesterday
Now they all have gone away
Checking
The best before date
This supermarket
Hasn't got
It hasn't got
Any casserole
This supermarket
Hasn't got
It hasn't got
Any casserole
And
Now 
I
Will 
Leeeeeeaaaaavvvvee!

7.

But they had some in Aldi.

Yo-Yo : Ruminations of an Accidental Poet – Collected Essays

Yo-Yo: Ruminations of an Accidental Poet, published by Puddlehopper, is now available to purchase! Telling stories from fifteen years as a performance poet. Festivals, fringes, fleeting appearances on TV, filming, faffing around with props, flopping at slams, it has it all! Essays from Write Out Loud, Chortle, Litro Magazine and and Torquay Museum’s lecture series, and some written specifically for this collection. Plus one new poem! Details on how to order this book will be revealed shortly.

Here’s the blurb:

In 2008 Robert Garnham thought he’d give performance poetry a try, having never heard of it before. What followed was to be fifteen years of crazy poetry adventures in all sorts of different venues. These collected essays describe, with humour and warmth, gigs in every part of the UK (and further afield), shenanigans at music festivals, angst at the Edinburgh Fringe and every conceivable type of poetic misadventure.

‘As Robert Garnham has been a huge influence on me as a comedy spoken word artist, I read this collection of essays with great anticipation. It didn’t disappoint! A wonderfully entertaining read’. (CLIVE OSEMAN).

You can order the book from this link:

https://robertgarnham.bigcartel.com/product/yo-yo-ruminations-of-an-accidental-poet

Sad news from the scone society

Dear fellow scone enthusiasts.

It pains me to write this letter, but circumstance has forced my hand. For many years, the Brixham Town Scone Society website has been a valuable tool for members to connect, ask advice, share cooking tips, and buy and sell both equipment and ingredients. There have been no complaints and many of us have both enjoyed, and taken advantage of, this wealth of scone-cooking know-how just a click of the mouse away.
However, lately it has come to the attention of this committee that the Classified section of the website has been coming under some abuse from certain members whose interests lay beyond mixing methods and how to create a really cracking milk glaze.
The problem first came to light when it was pointed out to me that a lot of our newer subscribers to the website, who filled in the online form, listed the classified section as their main motivation for doing so, yet almost all of them answered the question ‘How many hours a week do you spend cooking scones?’ with the response, ‘None’, and in a lot of cases, ‘I do not like scones’. This was somewhat perplexing and an investigation was launched in case there were some confusion in the title of our website, (Scones A-Plenty.com), or indeed if there were some new boy band or comic perhaps titled ‘Scone Man’, that was leading to this sudden influx in new members.
However, after a terrible mix-up (no pun intended) the other day in which one of our senior committee members, Maureen Hepplethwaite, found herself not at a scone cookery demonstration as she had been expecting, but at a swinger’s sex party, it was decided that action was needed.
The first thing we noticed was the number of young men offering a variety of different shaped spatulas for sale in the classifieds. While these are great implements in the mixing process, it is probably more common in the scone community to use wooden spoons, so I think it’s fair to say that this raised a few eyebrows among the committee. Most of these spatulas were advertised as being new, ‘or in new condition’, while some were being offered in a slightly battered state.
At this stage, alarm-bells didn’t actually start ringing. The admin behind running a pro-scone website means that some matters don’t actually get attended to until there’s some kind of emergency. The Great Flour Shortage of 2005 was one such calamity, and equally fraught was the resignation of our chairman in 2009 when he announced that frankly, he preferred muffins.
We then noticed the alarming number of society members offering scones of varying states of completion, some of which were ‘ready to pick up now’, others were, ‘come and collect’, while many were ‘lacking one final ingredient’. ‘Already in the mixing bowl’, apparently, (and according to Reginald, who does not proclaim to be an expert on such matters), means that the ‘seller’ is willing to conduct the process in their own home. ‘On the baking tray’, apparently means that they are willing to travel. And it’s anyone’s guess what ‘ready to be consumed with fresh fresh salad’, means. Suspicions were raised further when Phil Burton (member since 1988), advertised that he had a home-made ready mix featuring fresh sultana pieces and fruity chunks only to receive an email which read, ‘You’re a dirty boy, oh my, you’re a dirty boy!’, followed by someone's phone number.
Dear society members, this will just not do. To get to the root of the problem, we have employed a code-breaker whose previous area of expertise was the Egyptian hieroglyphs and also the mating call of the common sparrow. And it was no surprise to learn that the codes adopted by many of the users of our classified pages were also a base form of mating call in themselves . Once she had explained what many of the codes and terminologies were, I, as your brave Chairman, decided to pose online as one of these lovelorn scone-bakers with an advertisement composed specifically to entrap the guilty.
Spatula for sale (or rent). Slightly rusty yet ergonomically designed to offer maximum stirring. Mixture in bowl yet also functions on the tray. Fellow mixer must have GSOH. No salad please. Jam and cream to spread as desired. Satisfaction guaranteed. Stirs in an anti-clockwise or circular motion.
Alas, the only reply to my classified ad was from another society member who offered me a ‘lasagne’. ‘I don’t get it’, I said to the code-breaker.
‘Nor do I’, she replied.
And just to be safe, I haven’t eaten a lasagne since.
Dear society member, it is time to put an end to this, and the decision was recently taken at a committee level to put an end to the classified section of our website. We understand that this may very well reduce the number of people who have joined our society, (over twenty thousand new members in the last six weeks, a figure which still manages to perplex us), but we believe that this is the safest method to rid our wholesome community of undesirable attention.
Like many of you, I started out as a young man with a head full of ideas and dreams intent on devoting my life to the construction and consumption of the humble scone. Starstruck by such scone-bakers as Ethel P. Anderson and Audrey ‘Iron Knuckles’ McGinty, I saw the society as a means to connect with like minded souls whose purpose and heart were in a similar vein to my own. It has been nothing short of tragic to see our fine institution highjacked by those whose thoughts remain as base as their own animalistic instincts. I see this as an opportunity to root out these wrongdoers and make our society safe again!
The moment I’ve finished writing this email, I shall be visiting the committee where no doubt we shall be indulging in the wholesome pursuit of the perfect scone. And yes, fellow committee members, thanks for asking, I shall definitely be bringing my own spatula.

Yours
The chairman.