No Dairy...but all the Opprobrium

When the committee chair asks about your dietary requirements, then gets passive-aggressive about them...

  'We've had quite the trial as you're non-dairy veggishistic.  Menu option after menu option from my poor bedraggled - mustn't say lowly - village hall committee handmaidens defunct.  Amanda's plainest consommé - that would otherwise sing with its going to table splunge of non-pasteurised fuller-fat-than-you'd-ever-suspect Guernsey cream enriched mascarpone.  And what price leaving out the dolcelatte bind and yak's yoghurt drizzle from Beth's vegan offal sharing platter? Not to mention that Katrin's traditional paella fails to cajole without its hand of Giant Finn MacCunhaill's crumbling of gouged from between the trotters gelatin swole gelding's testicle steeped Caerphilly cheese.
  They're needing outreach support.  Luckily, the touring scheme is of necessity insured for all fall out from incoming fusspot dietary requirements.  Amanda's hospitalised in her split-level Cairn and has the Methodist minister walk round it twice weekly.  Beth has been put on split capsule St Johns Wort, Evening Primrose and Kava, aka flower-power beta blockers.  For Katrin, being of tundran origin, its ice baths, polar floe nose singing, Inuit exorcism via WhatsApp. 
  Don't be insulted, though, if none of them comes to the show. It won't be directed at you - just there's no respite for festering resentment.

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