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Summer in Australia is bloody hot. Bloody, bloody, bloody hot! Well over 104 degrees in the shade. Animals hide under rocks and trees, and pant and dribble a lot. Humans turn their houses into frigid airconditioned oases … and pant and dribble a lot. What better time to go outside, light a naked flame, stand in the sun (right under the ozone hole) and cook? That’s cook meat, you butt-humping bandicoot!
Lots of cultures have a barbecue of some kind, but nothing matches the Australian experience. Don’t argue, Texas, or you’ll find yourself staggering around with a sharp-clawed, very determined echidna trying to dig it’s way out of your World’s Biggest Bumhole!
Today’s review is of meat. There are basically two kinds of Aussie barbie meat. First, there is the only credible category, as eaten by real Aussie blokes and sheilas in their simmering, treeless backyards, and comprising two sub-meats:
a) sausages: ground-up lips and arseholes of sundry four-legged animals, mixed with fat and sawdust, and pushed into edible condoms; and b) chops and steaks: chunks of meat from the ribs or bums of sundry four-legged animals (usually after they’re dead), to be tossed, still bleeding, onto the overheated barbecue plate. A subset of this variety is the so-called “barbecue steak” — a ragged off-cut hacked from around the anal sphincter, pounded thin using a spiky mallet, and (usually after cooking) served to the children, who, being young, don’t deserve nutrition or enjoyment from their meal.
The other type of meat is “dined upon” by chardonnay-sipping ponces in shaded pergolas (or “summer houses”) in the “courtyards” of stately homes in the more affluent metropolitan suburbs. This category of meat might include marinated chicken kebabs; fillets of pork wrapped in banana leaves; or prawns and other seafood (we never “toss a shrimp on the barbie” — tossing a shrimp means either a dwarf-throwing competition in a pub, or another act of perversion on a small man, which I prefer not to discuss in an open forum). Who the hell do these people think they are? And then they accompany it with a macadamia and mango salad, for Christ’s sake! But these, and other such barbecuarious abominations, are reserved for bankers, financial advisers, company directors, and other such un-Australian scum. Put such blasphemous fare right out of your mind!
In next week’s review, I’ll be considering how to destroy the meat by rendering it into small, curled-up chunks of unidentifiable carbonaceous matter … er, cook a delicious meal. I’ll also look at the crucial points of the barbecue ritual: who has the tongs and why; why sheilas should stick to the cask wine and forget about cooking; what to do if the barbecue catches fire (and why peeing on it is not a great idea); and much, much more.
So for true-blue Aussie meat: 0 out of 11 (top marks!), plus a bonus 0 (double marks!) for helping to clean up all those roadside carcases. Love that roadkill! For poncey, inner-suburban yuppie-style meat: 11 (boo hiss!), just because you’re all rich bastards and I hate you!
Posted by aussie boy at April 13, 2003 01:57 PM | TrackBackNext week's review? Sigh.
To this review, I give a well-deserved, extra-long pooooooooooooooooooooooooop!
Posted by: fuddes on April 13, 2003 06:08 PMAussies, the other white meat.
Posted by: Canny Bull on April 13, 2003 06:20 PMNow that I've read about Aussie meat I might even feel that I can slap soundly at night. Where's that sheila with the juicy barbecue thong scurried off to?
Posted by: Double Worsted on April 13, 2003 11:47 PMaussie when do you get your section in the reviewer profiles?? i'm sure you're excited.
Posted by: tom on April 14, 2003 12:42 AMHi, tom. Sadly, under the terms of my release from "protective custody", I am not allowed to give away any information about myself.
Hell, if you knew even my real name I'd have to come over there and kill you -- or send over my highly trained, psychotic killer rock wallaby, Pasquale, to pay you a visit. Don't worry, though, he's a SNAW (sensitive new-age wallaby) -- it'd be quick and painless, and your next of kin would be told where to collect the left-over body parts. We're not brutes over here, you know!
Posted by: aussie boy on April 14, 2003 01:37 AMI slap soundly at night, but then, I own "The Clapper."
Posted by: Rob on April 14, 2003 11:00 AMWhere's my software review?
Posted by: somebody who is desperate on April 14, 2003 11:53 AMHave you looked behind the refrigerator?
Posted by: aussie boy on April 14, 2003 08:25 PMAlready tried "The Clapper" hooked up to my fridge, didn't help none, my meat kept getting warm!
(Insert your own joke here.)
Posted by: Double Worsted on April 14, 2003 09:57 PMWell duh, DW! If you don't want yer meat a gittin' warm, yer'd best be cookin' it! Kin't yer read none?
Posted by: aussie boy on April 15, 2003 01:05 AMThere is way too much poop on this site. Don't you people know that poop contains nearly as much bacteria per pound as the average Republican congressman? I must say I'm surprised at the way you spread poop around so casually. Why not try vomit, which is relatively sanitary, instead?
Posted by: nurse betty on April 15, 2003 08:49 AMDon't you freakin' Antipodeans eat hamburgers? Wusses.
Posted by: on April 15, 2003 06:26 PMAntipodeans?
Judges, can I get a ruling please?
$.47, congratulations!
I'd been sitting on that one for awhile too, just waiting for the right opportunity to use it. Then BLAMMO, you sneak in and drop it right in front of all of us! Oh well, back to the thesaurus...
Aussie Boy said:
"[U]nder the terms of my release from ?protective custody?, I am not allowed to give away any information about myself.
Hell, if you knew even my real name I?d have to come over there and kill you...
So, if we said "you're David Barrett, author of Ireland in Colour", you'd have to come over here and kill me?
Great! You'll like Texas. We'll have some barbeque...
Posted by: Michael on April 17, 2003 01:46 AMJolly good! Laughed 'til my eyes bled. Too close to the truth though, aussie boy: Little johnny might have an opinion about the defamation of this great australian icon (not to mention the problem of disposing of all those surplus arseholes and eyeballs).
Spot on about the ponces and their sodding kebabs too! They've got no idea;- it's either raw chook and salmonella on a pungi stick, or they overcook it and the stick catches fire, and when you try and use it you get the whole lot in your lap or a half a burnt stick upside a molar.
My common-law father-in-law, old bastard that he is, shoots kangaroos for a station owner up north every so often. When he gets back he spends a couple of days finishing off the trip beer and making sausages with his mates. Occasionally they get it right and all you end up with is a lot of flatulence, but more often they get it wrong and produce these tubes of meat that can blunt a wiltshire carving knife, and all that barbecuing does is case-harden the buggers.
Now the rain has started again it's time for the regular extended family barbecues 'up on the hill', an exercise in defoliation that makes agent orange look like a breath freshener, and lets the kids fill the barbie with gum leaves - gives a flash burn at 20 paces and a produces a flare from the chimney that puts the north-west shelf to shame.
Ah, bring it on.
Posted by: noddy on April 17, 2003 12:13 PM