The Cricket Dinner

The Cricket Dinner

It was the annual cricket club dinner, a grand and splendid affair,
the men were sporting tuxedo’s, scrubbed up and groomed was their hair.
Ball gowns were worn by the ladies with little clutch bags to match,
everyone looked quite stunning, but would the evening come up to scratch?

The dinner was sumptuously lavish, each course was meal on its own,
desert was a joy for the tastebuds, all diets were totally blown.
Indulgence was key for the evening, extravagance clearly not spared,
wine glasses filled to the gunnels, an evening where nobody cared.

The wives imbibed with great gusto as the speeches were boring them stiff,
no sooner was one bottle emptied; they demanded another forthwith.
they giggled and cackled quite freely as the captain gave his address,
heckling and laughing like fishwives they hindered further progress.

Speeches were ended abruptly, and the dancing was now on the way,
the women danced like ‘Travolta’ with a most creative display.
Their fellas looked somewhat bewildered as the women got onto the stage,
no longer stylish and graceful just raucous and on a rampage.

Now they were doing a conga as they danced along in a line,
still, they quaffed from their glasses, demanding more bottles of wine.
They then discovered the kit room and found some stumps and a bat,
a ball was under the benches, so the captain’s wife pocketed that.

The women returned to the dance floor and decided to set up the stumps,
swinging the bat in a frenzy the captain’s wife took out great lumps.
Then she made that connection, and the ball flew off into space,
It ricocheted off every corner then vanished without any trace.

There was a shot from another and then it went dark in the hall,
It took out the lights in an instant then wedged itself high in the wall.
So the evening then ended abruptly, then everyone said their goodbyes,
the women swayed off to their taxis, followed closely by all of the guys.

Next morning was clearly quite woeful as the women were all worse for wear,
they were summoned to clear up the venue, a cross they all had to bare.
Fragile and frail they were feeling as they swept and cleared up the room,
no cricket or congas this morning, just a thumping bad head full of gloom!

ⓒ Teresa Harrison-Best