Buying a new BBQ is arguably one of the most important moments of a grown man’s life. So when I gave the Lord of the Manor the nod last Christmas, he was more excited than a teen with his first Playboy magazine.
After completing research that would do any good lawyer proud, he took to the shops to trial the beasts in person, lifting lids, opening doors, testing dials – this was new Barbie 101 and I prudently gave him space.
Then along came another couple. “What about this one?” My female counterpart suggested standing in front of the most basic, boring flat plate in the shop. “Loads of room and a fantastic price.”
Though in hearty agreement, I inhaled sharply at her recklessness.
Her male counterpart, all but grunting in ecstasy in front of a fully loaded outdoor kitchen, barely glanced up. In comparison to the gleaming chrome meat-eater he obviously desired, the little flat plate looked like mere toyshop fodder.
“Sure,” he mumbled waspishly, “If you’re cooking sausages for the local cricket club.”
Nodding sympathetically at their predicament, I wondered if I should quietly explain – Sweetie, it’s gotta flash, whistle, jiggle and burp… and if it comes with free beer it’s sold!
But there’s one thing the Lord of the Manor failed to realise when I opened those irreversible floodgates, a slight matter of eyes and wool you might say. You see, once our brand new barbie has been properly installed, I’m not lifting a finger in the kitchen again. He’ll be doing all the cooking in our house from now on, and doing it joyfully I might add!
Motive and reward, people. Motive and reward.