This is what comes of a night at the Metropole, Look what it’s done for me.

From Trying to Please by John Julius Norwich.  Page 145.

Of all our guests, the most distinguished of all were Winston and Clementine Churchill. They regularly came to Venice for a fortnight in September, staying at the Excelsior on the Lido; and as Winston had a passion for the cinema the five of us frequently went together. He would immerse himself totally in the film, keeping up a running commentary to himself throughout. On one occasion I heard him muttering, “Oh jealousy, jealousy—the most barren of all vices.” On another, during a film about the life of wandering Irish tinkers, there were repeated murmurs of “poor people, oh poor people” and, once, “poor horse.” Sometimes the Churchills would come to dinner with us at the Gritti. There was one agonizing evening when Clemmie whispered to my mother as they arrived, “I’m sorry Diana, but Winston’s in a very black mood”—and indeed he was, scowling furiously across the table, answering all my mother’s ever more frantic attempts at conversation with an angry grunt. His depression spread over the party like a leaden pall; before long we were all reduced to an embarrassed silence. Then, quite suddenly, he turned to my mother and said, “I shall be much better when I have had another glass of your excellent champagne.” Five minutes later the fog had lifted and he was singing old music hall songs, one of which ended “This is what comes of a night at the Metropole, Look what it’s done for me.” I have been trying to find the words ever since.