At this point, it's all over bar the shouting. the two groups are ensconced in the party room, probably glaring at each other across the space, and playing bridge.

When I told the one lady of the original party who is the sweetest little thing there ever was and a proper little Englishwoman what the self-righteous one was doing, her reaction was, "That bitch!"

I picked myself up off the floor and then set to trying to broker a truce. It's a table of bridge not a diplomatic incident ladies!