Gatecrasher

Do you know the Billy Joel song “the Stranger”? I would like to propose another title for him to work on, more sinister still: the Gatecrasher.
Our Christmas was spoilt by such a gatecrasher.
He managed to persuade us to give him a lift up to the chalet.
After that, he was perfectly unreasonable. He kept on filing up my glass and making me say things so Erik’s parents now think I’m a drunkard… but, in fact, he loosened everybody’s tongue – not just mine - and he kept everyone up to the early hours talking in circles about subjects that should be banished from all decent conversation. When, in the morning, he came with us on the pistes, he laughed at our ineptitude and made sure that we were quickly tired and discouraged – after all, it was cold and the visibility was bad. His topics of conversation were money, influence and profit – not the sort of guy you’re pleased to have around when you’re on holiday.
We left early, disgusted by such an ambience in festive times of sickness, but he hid somewhere in our luggage – certainly in the dirty washing bag – and when we found ourselves in the saner city once more he was there, Mr Frisky, ready to cause more trouble and upset.