The Drunk At the Dinner Party
There’s always one drunk at the dinner party; an embarrassing shame
Ne’er to be invited back again
It doesn’t complement the tortured duck foie gras crackers
And the sinfully boring conversations lamenting benefit scrounging slackers
Everyone else is clunkily overdressed, not to mention, anxious and stressed
Even the halibut’s looking depressed.
The darling children all love to whinge
The chubby husbands are all thinner on Hinge
I drain the whisky bottle, and the host hands me some tea
It’s happened again; I guess the drunk must be me.
Evie H
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