Tuesday, 4 May 2010

How to do a bank holiday

A bank holiday, for those of you in parts of the world that aren't Britain, is a public holiday, usually a Monday. You may have similar holidays in your part of the world, and you may use them in the same way we do: getting devastatingly drunk while charring meat in the rain, or taking children to drop litter at leisure attractions and areas of natural beauty.

My good friends at Delilaz, however, have found a third way of enjoying these precious breaks.

The Barbie-Cue.

The theme is a simple combination of Barbie, the anorexic fetishised doll and role model for young girls, and the barbecue, every man's favourite way of ruining his food.

Now, there may be those amongst you who say, 'Dave, come on. A Barbie-themed barbecue with strippers cavorting about, smelling of meat and whoring themselves for your pleasure? Doesn't that leave a bad taste in your mouth?'

Well, sometimes it does. But that's what happens when you undercook a sausage. The solution is to drink enough to kill any bug known to science. I hope that answers your concerns.

At Delilaz, the scene was undeniably charged with a certain level of erotic energy. By which I mean there were naked women everywhere. But there was also a great sense of togetherness, of community - sentiments often lost to us in modern Britain.

Allow me to take you there. Look around.

Over there, Garry Carrymore (of Carrymore's Carry More Cash & Carry) is being fed a side of ribs by Clorette, Cosmopolita and Evian.

Beyond them, Mick 'Fuck' Ewe is engrossed in conversation / light fondling with Majorette, his very favourite girl, while she tenderly pours gravy over his sausage.

In a booth towards the back, three hardworking executives from a prominent mainstream religion are washing away their sins in a mixture of cava, ketchup, the juice from seven rare steaks and a bottle of baby oil, assisted by six girls they have renamed The Blessed Choir of the Fellatious.

Across the room, close to the bar, Innocentia is manning the spit roast area, looking flushed but sticking to her task gamely.

And beyond Innocentia, in the dark unseen recesses of the lounge, where deals are done and love is found every minute, the embers of an endless grill glow with hot promise, lighting glimpses of fat hands on young bodies, one piece of meat smeared greasily with the juice of another.

Fucking great, innit? Burp.

Maybe you could try it next bank holiday. I might see you there! And you can buy the beerz!

Why? Because I AM THE CLIENT!


  1. STOP! You're making me hungry... for LOVE, and sausages.

  2. Thanks for the info. this site is good and informative.
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