Rise up ye Peasants!

Dear Ditties and Living Dodos of the FT Saloon,

Like an antibiotic resistant venereal disease – you’re favourite forum for pseudo-intellectual abuse has returned!

This year, like feet paired with grapes, each Saloon will be matched with a thematically relevant venue. Furthermore, no longer shall we be content with mere drunken philosopherising with our questionable wisdom vanishing into the ether. For now, with all the talent of a squashed squid spilling its ink, we shall also endeavor to be authors!

By imperial decree of the FT Tsar, the outline of one short story shall be penned during the course of each saloon in order to immortalise our genius.

To kick it all off, we shall meet at your new favourite proletarian hideout, to explore the revolutionary spirits of old, new and yet to come. Thus, whether you want to wave an umbrella in a yellow vest, or just want to dispense tear gas canisters and water cannon on beatnik students, this FT is for you!

Novichok Aspiratingly Yours
Phillip

The GrandPoohbar of the FT Saloon