Knowing that The Intern was under suspension at the time for falling asleep in The President’s favourite sunbeam the society decided that it was the perfect day for the long awaited wine box. Just as the President and Strategist got ‘warmed up’ and began to come up with a convoluted scheme regarding the mother of Tattersdale, the head of the hated HAVISOCKS, things were rudely interpreted by the return of the Intern to societal HQ. Seeking warmth in a pile of discarded mattresses in a local alleyway, he had come into contact with a local cat. He was too witless to speak, and stunk of paraffin to the point of causing nausea, but we gathered he had, yet again, been bested by the beast in combat. The wretch was truly beyond the point of pity, and the society was moved to spontaneously ban him for another week, telling him that “The Tavistock Society does not, has not and will never exist.” Once he was driven away the society celebrated with the remaining wine, and had a rather jolly time.