RSVP -

On the bleakest day autumn could muster

In a church to which they’ll not return

I thought back to a time when I could trust her

To a time when there wasn’t John Byrne

And in a cruel twist of fate which so often

Occurs in tales such as this

I found myself catering reception

And there were urges I had to resist

Not least ‘cos John Byrne is much fitter

And the straightener to him holds no fears

So if the chocolate in the fountain tastes bitter

It’s because it’s been laced with my tears

Celebrations were well underway when

Her father prayed silence and spoke

He said: «It's not like I’m losing a daughter»

As violently starting to choke

And in a gesture which said I’m fast fading

Could somebody dial 999?

He valiantly toasted my capers

With a glass of what he thought was wine

It was gone half past ten before folk cottoned on

By which time I’d landed in Wick

So if what’s in the fondue’s to die for

It’s got nothing to do with the cheese

And if what’s in the punchbowl seems lethal

It’s because it’s two thirds anti-freeze