Trampolines.
OK, i'll give you that one. Barbecues though...

Have you never felt the primal manly pleasure of the fight to light the charcoal?
"What do you mean there are no more firelighters? Get me that bottle of turps from under the sink. Now hold my beer and stand back."
Waiting for the coals to go white and flaky so they glow when you blow on them and the heat blast singes your eyebrows, sipping a beer while prodding a slowly blackening chicken leg until it (mostly) stops bleeding.

Of course this doesn't apply to gas barbecues. Those are a pointless affront to machismo and should be outlawed.
(Prof. Moriarty put his foot in it on, Sun 24 May 2009, 13:40, 1 reply)

A gas barbecue
is a cooker on wheels, you'd have to be dangerously insane to buy one.

Social gathering + barbecue = fine.

What mystifies me, and I have lived next door to such people, are the type of couples who get out the barbecue several times a week throughout summer just to cook a couple of burgers.

Why?

Get a fucking life.

(not you, them)

(unless you are one of them)

(and I don't mean gay)
( stopmeandslapme Cometh the hour, cometh your mum, Sun 24 May 2009, 17:23, closed)