Will Green's scathing remarks about our famous London Klubo prompt a few words in its defence.
To attend it regularly I feel is very goodo for the soulo. It is just as goodo as going to churcho, and very similar.
We have our simple rituals. We listen to long speeches of no great consequence, and so are free to meditate if we so wish. It is nice and exclusive, with hardly anyone falling down drunk, and fisticuffs are comparatively rare. I attended for many years without understanding anything, apart from a word here and there. (This puts it on a par with the mysteries of God, but those at least you can make up as you go along, and solve them to your own liking.) We even have a famously inaudible choir with a repertoire so select as to be obscure. I am not going to say anything about the collection box.
The famous welcome extended to newcomers is worthy of an old-time speak-easy. The famous nondescript street door is securely shut, with a secret bell-push disguised as a light-switch. Once inside, any pesky nosey parker is quickly frozen out, by prattling to him/her/it in our famous secret gibberish. This is in order to impress him/her/it, and to encourage him/her/it to emulate us, of all people, a bunch of lonely old dragons.
To attend the club is a truly moving experience; notice the alacrity with which new members get to hell out of it.
Yes, there is no other club like it. We are famously unique. Our format has not changed since 1903, and we are proud of it.
Reply from Norah Brown.