A Man and his BBQ!

There is no doubt about it; Barbeques are a man’s domain. The BBQ is one of the last few untouched areas where we can continue to dominate and declare ourselves to be the mighty provider. All other areas of manhood are being eroded away faster than the polar ice.

Men can no longer claim to be the big hunter since they started letting women get jobs other than teaching and nursing. Nowadays they are allowed to do almost any job (albeit at a reduced salary), you close your Daily Sport at the building site and pass it to the brickie to your left only to discover that she’s reading Hello; these are scary days. On the bright side, this means that there’s a little extra in the kitty for beer and bacon, or there would be if it wasn’t for the invention of Clinique.

I’ve said before how great it is to be a man, but the fact is that our areas of control are diminishing very rapidly. I’m told they even let women vote these days, so we can no longer declare our selves to be in control of government. With women getting a say in who gets the top job, anyone can get it as long as they look good in a magazine; one day we could even wind up with a female Prime minister and you can mark my words that all sorts of trouble will wind up coming from that!

Women go to watch football, Cricket and Rugby. Women’s teams even stand a much better chance of getting to the top in international competitions than the men’s. Men all over the country are being left alone looking after the kids on a Sunday, making lunch whilst their wives are at the pub – this is just not right.

The Barbie still bucks this horrendous trend though. The BBQ is still a place where only a man may stand. Man the mighty hunter with a big slab of meat and a fire to cook it on. Stood at the fire we can hold our tongs with pride and look back at the millions of years of evolution that has made this possible. Women can busy themselves out of sight doing whatever it is they do at times like this whilst the man stands, chest puffed out as his friends crowd round and admire his work. Often there will be a little bit of rivalry and bravado among the men folk. Young Tom will point out that his brand new Outback Omega 200 at home has an extra stand on the side for keeping cooked food warm on, this is perfectly acceptable behaviour. Tom will soon rue his rash comments as his older peers point out that Gas BBQ’s are just an outdoor hob and women can use hobs; "only a real man can use coal." Here we stand, impressing everyone with our tools in our hand.

As we mildly char a handful of sausages, burgers, chicken and some vegetable kebabs for the ladies we happily stand, sweating heavily in the sun and choking from the smoke, because we know one pure and simple fact; Women cannot do this job. Today the praise is all ours. Today all the guests at this party will be applauding us because this is our domain. This is our world and it’s not getting trampled on by the females. Being the centre of it all and providing the meat for a group of guests leaves us feeling like we are on top of the chain again, the lion of the pride. All of the pressure rests proudly on our shoulders, if we do not cook the meat there will be no food, everyone will be hungry and angry. Man must provide.

We throw our slabs of meat onto a plate and go inside to where a table has mysteriously become over-crowded with three types of salad and garlic bread and cheeses and drinks and homemade sauces and humus and plates and cutlery and potatoes and bread and crisps and dips and four different puddings. No one knows how these things get there – they just do. We manage to clear a small space in the cornerand put the single plate of meat down to the gasps and sighs of all. The man has done his work. The meat is ready. Everyone – eat!