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image.jpegHorray!!  Summer has arrived.  Time to delve into the dark corners of the garage and haul out the bbq, (which gets little use in Ireland I might add).  Time for my man to shine.  I may be capable of turning out the odd gourmet delights in my role as head chef in our household but lets face it, how could I possibly know anything about barbequing, being a mere woman.  No, the barbeque is the mans domain, we all know that BBQ’s are powered not by coal, but testosterone.

imageFirst task, remove cobwebs and lift lid to reveal last years ash and grime. Remove any congealed crumbs or rotten meat the result of having  been stashed away last year in an unclean state. Obviously this is the woman’s responsibility.  Cleaning the BBQ is not manly work. A good half hour vigorous scrub of the grill and we are ready to rock.

image.jpegBuying the food, this is obviously the woman’s job.  Supermarket shopping is not manly work.  The meat may need preparation by the woman  first.  The woman may be assigned other lowly tasks, like tossing the salad, making dips, setting out cutlery, tables, napkins, glasses etc.  The meat should be set out on the tray beside the bbq in preparation for the manly spectacle of placing the meat on the grill.

imageDrinks in the form of beer should be provided to the man.   The woman should ensure that the fridge is stocked with cold beverages as obviously this is thirsty work for the man.






image.jpegAdmiration for the manly work being done.  While he dons his black apron, brandishing his tongs, pause for a moment to behold this vision of manly lovliness.

imageThe highly technical precision turning of the burgers, the careful examination of the sausage, all essential requirements to ensure even browning.  In the end to ensure no breaches of health and safety, he will make the decision to burn the bejasus out of everything.



image.jpegFinally, the momentous eating of the by now beyond recognition cremated meat.  Loud noises of approval all round.  The woman may announce loudly to everyone what a treasure her man is, to nods of approval all round.


I wonder who gets to clean up afterwards?