Thirty three year old sales executive Ben Robertson has announced his unrivalled excitement at the beginning of BBQ season this weekend.
“I’m absolutely buzzing. BBQs are like Christmas for anybody over the age of twenty. Everybody knows BBQ is actually Latin for daytime intoxication. Now that the Euros are pretty much over, we need another excuse to drink eight pints of Kronenberg before two in the afternoon, between now and when the Premier League starts again in August”.
Ben explained, “The idea of a proper barbie is to supply enough strong booze so that your guests aren’t bothered that the shitty disposable barbecue I bought from the petrol station only heats the low-grade meat I’m serving with the same impetus as an electric blanket and is likely to result in E-Coli infections for all involved.”
“Mate, the meat is not the point. If it’s raw, that litre of Russian Standard is going to destroy all the bacteria inside your gut anyway. The idea is to get everyone together, pump some shite music that will keep the birds from moaning and get so canned that you don’t care it’s raining and the barbie has melted the fence,” laughs friend and part-time alcoholic Danny.
Neighbour, and party pooper, Gareth Jenkins is reported to be less than thrilled at the start of BBQ season, “The guys an absolute weapon. He can’t handle his booze and it ends in tears every fucking year. By six o’clock he’ll probably be in A&E with severe burns on his penis after performing his retarded party trick that involves burning sambuca and pretending he is a bird.”
