[Graham King]

Why’d I enter? No dissenter to their pleasantries unmeant or
Vacuous dare any serious thinking bring;
Some who banter, some who rant or (piercing as a bagpipe’s chanter)
Gush: these parasites, who round each table cling!

She's a couturier haughty (sixty-plus) who dresses naughty
But thinks figures should be stick-like and austere;
Yet while oddities of fashion are her prize perennial passion,
Alcohol as runner-up seems very near.

He is “Something in the City” where he says he's sitting pretty
(Like that doxy so adoring by his side);
But his boasting as we’re toasting bodes he’s coasting for a roasting:
When the market notes his mark-up, woe betide!

Some are boring, others snoring; most have manners I'm deploring
(I alone, it seems, have taste or etiquette);
High-billed bland scarce-heated menu; an ill-planned and foetid venue -
This must be our worst reunion dinner yet!