Here in Australia, we like BBQ's. We like to get outside, in the sunshine,
fire up the bbq, and cook meat. Get rid of the fucking kangaroo and emu as
our national emblems, and replace them with a 4 burner bbq complete with
steel trolley and gas bottle holder. Fuck, as far as I know were the only
country to actually eat our national emblems, having them printed on coins
and shit is sorta wrong.

 
Food is obviously an extremely important part of any BBQ. Theres so many
different factors that must be taken into consideration including who will
bring what. The best way to do it is delegation. Phone everyone who is
coming before hand, and tell them what to bring. Everyone is responsible for
their own meat, that part is simple, but as far as snacks, salads and drinks
go, you can divvy that up between the different parties attending youre get
together. If youre the one running the whole thing you can set guidelines on
what is brought though. For example, warn the salad person that if they turn
up with an exotic dry chickpea, caper and tofu salad, theyll be leaving with
it crammed up their ass. If the snacks person turns up with a single 50g bag
of Cheezels, they will be beaten to death and buried in a shallow grave. And
if the drinks person turns up with Coke Zero...fuck, dont even get me
started on Coke Zero....

Along with the great food, is the great company. Friends and family abound.
Throw in someones mum and dad, a couple siblings, older preferably, that way
they in turn can bring some of their own, far younger children. A couple of
your own mates, who you think are funny as fuck, but your parents and
everyone else just think are noisy wankers.

Lastly comes the venue. Were pretty lucky here in Perth, theres a metric
fuckload of awesome BBQ spots in and around some great parkland areas, and
along the river foreshore, and most of them are supplied with free BBQs,
thanks to the various councils around the place. The BBQs take around 4 days
to warm up, but free is free. As is expected in these kind of environments
the wildlife is different than say, in an area that isnt frequented by human
beings and the massive amounts of food scraps we leave behind.

Most people will know of seagulls, and the way theyre attracted to food.
Most people will have at one point in their lives been fooled by that one
legged seagull, felt sorry for the poor thing and tossed it a chip, or piece
of bread only to suddenly see that missing leg unfold from under its
feathered body as it scrambles to pick up the tasty morsel you threw its
way. Seagulls are sneaky cunts, be warned.

But Im guessing, that most people dont know of the other feathered terror,
the goose. Im not talking your run of the mill farm goose, Im talking giant
river geese, fuckers stand about 8 feet tall, and travel around in packs of
about 6 or 7. And by travel I mean skulk, ever so slowly towards where your
BBQ is in progress, skulk towards you with a slow and steady determination
that is somewhat offputting, making you fear these otherwise normal birds.

I cant put into words properly the horror I felt the first time I saw this
freakish abomination take place. Around 7 of these abnormally large geese
came plodding up out of the river, which was about 100 metres away from
where our BBQ was taking place. The ambled along, swaying from side to side,
five white geese, and two grey ones. These things were fucking huge. I mean,
Ive seen other geese, but Jesus Humphrey Christ, Ive seen smaller horses.

Im guessing it was the smell of the meat cooking that attracted them. Soon
as those sausages (made from 100% emu groin) started sizzling, they were
there, coming towards us. We saw them, and thought the asphalt car park
would slow them down. No such luck. They slowed down, the smallest of the
seven came forward, like a scout, tested the ground before him/her/it, found
it to be safe and signalled the rest of the posse to follow it. And then
they were upon us. Barking like dogs, extending their freaky, feathered
penis-like necks, flapping their gigantic fucking wings. It was horrible.
But fuck them. They wanted our meat, our delicious meat, but no, they werent
to have it. The pack split into two smaller groups, one trying to distract
us with their gigantic fluffy genitals (dont ask) whilst the second group
made a slow and steady creep for the meat plate. But as amusing as giant
geese cocks are, BBQ'd meat is far more important to us humans, and the
attempt was a failure. A couple of the women present started to throw scraps
of food to the geese, even though they were warned not to. For fuck sake,
these things were big enough it looked like they ate small dogs and
children.

Eventually the scraps ran out, and Bongo chased them off with some paper and
an arm waving routine he perfected back in his arm waving days. The geese
were leaving anyway, arm waving or not. There was nothing left for them
here, the meat was gone, and the only small child was well protected. They
wandered across the road, and disappeared into some bushes in a huge puff of
smoke, what looked to be disco lighting and a strange sort of barking laugh
noise. Much to our delight we didnt see them again that day. We left a
little later on, and whilst no-one else spoke about it, I know it changed us
all, in some way.

Adios,