The brass plaque beside the clubhouse door reads simply: "Est. Tuesday"—because the founders couldn't agree on an actual year, and Chickenpie Emperor insisted that precision was overrated for institutions of leisure.
Sunday Swing Chicken discovered the place by accident, following an errant drive through a hedge that seemed, upon closer inspection, to be more doorway than shrubbery. Inside: the Emperor on a velvet settee, a disco chicken spinning impossible records, and a lounging philosopher who never gave his name.





