THE URBANICITY GAZETTE
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THE FIVE-SHILLING CHICKEN THAT SHOOK THE FLEET: A CORRESPONDENT'S INVESTIGATION INTO BOLLARD ROW
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By Samuel Blackwater
Filed from: Bollard Row

—— The Trading Company requires membership. It gives away food. It sells rum for less than water. And according to Simone Dalton, it may be the most dangerous place in the colonies — for one's purse. ——

Your correspondent, upon receiving reports of an establishment described variously as 'a cathedral of commerce,' 'an enchanted warehouse,' and 'the place where they give you free cheese,' undertook to investigate the matter with all due journalistic rigour.

The party — comprising Simone Dalton, Sabine Moreau, and at least one other whose identity remains disputed — arrived at Bollard Row in the late morning, having been directed there by local intelligence. The first obstacle was the membership system, which Simone Dalton described as 'similar to a letter of marque, but for purchasing rather than plundering.' A miniature portrait was taken by mechanical means and affixed to a card — Simone Dalton reports the likeness 'bore an unfortunate resemblance to a wanted poster,' a comparison that delighted rather than alarmed.

Once inside, all semblance of order collapsed.

The matter of the free samples deserves particular attention, as it has become the most contested element of the narrative. Simone Dalton's original account mentions 'several small offerings of food' available throughout the establishment. By the second retelling, this had become 'a banquet distributed across twenty stations.' By the time the story reached this gazette's offices, the samples had been elevated to 'a feast rivalling the Governor's table at Christmastide, offered to any who possessed the fortitude to circle the aisles repeatedly.'

Our correspondent can confirm only that free food was distributed, that Simone Dalton consumed a quantity of it, and that at least one altercation occurred at or near a sample station, the details of which vary irreconcilably between sources.

As to what was actually PURCHASED — and we use the word loosely, for the quantities involved suggest less 'shopping' than 'provisioning for a siege' — the manifest includes items of both practical and bewildering nature. The centrepiece appears to be a whole chicken, roasted on a spit, sold for a sum so trifling that Sabine Moreau openly questioned whether they had stolen it by accident. 'Five shillings,' Sabine Moreau repeated, with the haunted expression of a man whose understanding of economics has been fundamentally shattered. 'For a WHOLE CHICKEN.'

Also procured: bulk spirits, bulk biscuits, bulk items of a nature that defies bulk — one does not, under ordinary circumstances, require forty-eight individual pudding cups, yet here we are.

— EDITOR'S NOTE —

The preceding account has been compiled from multiple testimonies of varying reliability. The Gazette assumes no responsibility for the accuracy of sample counts, chicken prices, or claims of enchantment. Readers contemplating their own expedition to Bollard Row are advised to bring a firm budget and a stronger will than Simone Dalton apparently possesses.

Further reports will follow as warranted, or as space permits.

— Samuel Blackwater, Correspondent-at-Large