Corfield claims New Fable genre

In a conference hall in Plempt, Thomas spoke to a gathering of aspiring writers. He hadn’t been invited to, of course, he’d been wandering past the place in an effort to find a loo. Having assumed the impressive doors led to a particularly large one that flushed well, Thomas entered at the precise moment a guest speaker’s presentation was introduced.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on one’s perspective, the speaker had died in his hotel room earlier that morning and was still waiting to be discovered by hotel staff who, because of the do-not-disturb sign the speaker had placed upon his door in anticipation of the large amount of tainted methamphetamine he’d intended to take in preparation for said presentation, were waiting in the corridor with vacuum cleaners and a trolley of fresh towels until the he woke up and removed the thing so that they could do theirs. The corollary of which was Thomas wandering into a considerable round of applause and encouraging gesticulations that he make his way to a stage and talk about writing.

Now, the last time Thomas had spoken about anything in front of anyone was during his court hearings, which left him not only familiar with public speaking, but also with ridicule and being spat on. As a consequence, he found the ongoing round of applause both unfamiliar and drier than previous encounters with seated members of the public. Upon the podium, he basked in their adoration until it withered into a scattering of applause, after which he claimed the genre of New Fable before anyone else could.

A recording of his talk can be watched here.