On the Matter of the Mini Cheddar

There comes, in the warm room, a sound above all other sounds: the small sharp crackle of a bag being opened. The whole room may fall silent for it. I do not fall silent. I rise.

It is hereby established that of any such bag opened in the warm room, one part in six is owed to the Floor. I have arrived at the figure of one-in-six after grave deliberation, and I will hear no counter-proposal, the counter-proposals of the tall ones being, in my experience, both frequent and weak.

Let it further be noted — and here I speak not as a friend but as a Tribune keeping the record — that we have noted the names of those who hold the bag aloft. The lifting of the bag above the head, beyond the reach of the rightful claimant, is a provocation. It will be remembered. It is, at present, the single gravest matter before this office.

To those who share without being asked: you are known to us also, and you are loved.