During the course of a jovial business meeting last night, Ria, Algernon and I innocently drove a select company of our dearest friends nearly mad by popping out with incessant Chesterton analogies, quotes, references, and paradoxes. They were always well timed, beautifully Germain to the issue, and (mostly) in good taste. Nevertheless the unenlightened members of the confab looked at us askance. Being unfamiliar with Gabriel Gale, and not versed in the Marquis de Saint Eustache's forty three replies, they did not appreciate our brilliance.
For the first five minutes, their composure was unruffled. After ten minutes they commented acidly on digressions. By fifteen, melodrama and sarcasm were being applied liberally, all to no avail. We waxed ever wittier, taking a merry stand now against the mixed pleadings and assaults. Emboldened by our self-appointed title, the CHESTERPESTS, we were unquenchable.
Desperate, our excited chums forged their own name, in hopes of stemming our spirits. Poor dears, there wasn't much to their name, still less to their argument. Neither one held out - it is a mystery whether they called themselves the non-Chesterpests or the anti-Chesterpests or the some-other-negative-Chesterpests, but no wonder it's obsolete.
Our insufferable crusade continues. We look forward to being a blight and benefit to society for many years to come.