The Branch Show Exposed
Chad Cryer

Owing to the fact that no one had thought to tell me that the clocks had changed, I arrived at the Branch show an hour early. I was surprised to see Mr. Johnson A and Mrs. Trelawney as I walked in, and they seemed even more surprised to see me. Maybe surprised is the wrong word: rather they looked caught, and I thought I saw Mrs. Trelawney put something behind her back.

'Evening', I ventured, as they hurriedly rearranged things on the table in front of them. 'You're here early,' I continued, supposing that they had also not reset their clocks, 'What's that'?' I asked, pointing at the stainless steel vat on the table.
'It's a steamer', said Mrs. Trelawney looking sideways at Mr. Johnson.
'Oh right,' I nodded, '"What are you steaming?'
Mr. Johnson shifted uneasily as I lifted the lid of the steamer. Inside I could see that the tank contained four or five jars of honey. 'The water's a bit hot in there for honey isn't it?' Mr. J. and Mrs. T. exchanged worried looks.
Then, on looking again, I saw something familiar float to the surface of the water: that unmistakable seal of excellence: a John Chamberlain Honey jar label. I saw it fold and sink to the bottom again. I looked up into their two guilty faces, as the realization of what they were doing dawned on me.
'We err. ..well the thing is. ..it's just that.., Mr. J. floundered.
'Now look here Chuckle Boy,' said Mrs. T. in a defensive tone. 'There are a few things you need to know about our club.'
'Rules and things,' added Mr. J., 'circles within circles, wheels within wheels.'
'I see,' I said, not seeing at all.
'We have standards to maintain, and, more importantly, egos to contain,' Mrs. T. added.
'So why are you steaming off John's labels?'
'Well, why reinvent the wheel? It's what we always do. Over the past few years we have managed to beat John Chamberlain with his own product three times. We like to think that it keeps him from becoming complacent.'
'So who is in this inner circle, as you put it?'
'Well, it's more a case of there being John, and err... then there's the rest of us.'
'You mean the whole club's in on it'?'
'Well yes.'
'Even Terry?' Mrs. T. nodded solemnly and held up a jar which had had Terry's name recently added to it.
I looked down at the jar of my own honey, which I had brought to the show. I compared my cloudy, granulated, scum-topped jar with a jar of the sparkling Chamberlain product.
'You'd better steam off a jar for me too then,' I said putting my jar back in my bag.
'Marvellous,' said Mr. J. looking relieved, 'welcome on board.'

I was delighted with the second-prize rosette which Terry awarded me; delighted as opposed to proud you understand. Indeed, there was a great deal of delight at the show that evening. Throughout the entire evening I noticed that John Chamberlain maintained a look that I can only describe as agonised suspicion. I thought about asking him how he had got on in the judging, but seeing that he was not sporting any rosettes, I thought better of it.

Chad Cryer